For me it's a toss up between Lake George and Lilacs.
Before my first trip to Lake George in 2013 I'd been stuck on 36kts, and at 68 years old, had an ambition to crack 70Km/Hr before I turned 70. Came fairly quickly, didn't take long to break the 36kt barrier with a 37, then a 38 that got me past 70km/hr, then a 39 that had me jumping around with a huge smile on my face.
On the way home to WA, Hardie gave the call to come to Albany as Evets had discovered a great speed run there.
So booked into Lilacs Cottages, right on the water front with a huge lawn rigging area, magic! Had a great session there and beat my Lake George 39 by a fraction of a knot. But the great attraction of Lilacs is the NM run, and we didn't try it that session as the locals thought it too short!
But now it has a 40kt run to it's name and I managed a 35NM last year.

It's very hard to single out the one best epic session, but a Lake George trip is just special, not only the Lake and it's sailing, the meeting of other GPSTC sailors, and the friendships that come from it.
Another event from that first LG trip springs to mind. Herby coming in saying his GPS was doing strange things, all the numbers were scrolling round. The reaction when we told him he'd cracked 30kts was classic!
He had speed genie set to 30 and had never seen the screen scrolling before.

Yes it must be LG for most of us. I have been there 8 years in a row, and the most memorable was the first time in 2014. I think I was the first from NSW to get there, didn't know anybody, drove to the spit by myself, first run and I hit the sandbar and smashed my boom ! The place was incredible for the remoteness, the landscapes, the power of the wind. Lucky the next day I met Jamie and PJ and got a lot of good advice. Then Sammy came all the way from WA !
Sometimes I wish I could stop time in those moments.

Highlights?
Far too many to choose between!
It seems like the last 17 years of GPS inspired windsurfing has been one massive adventure after another.
All the magic places I have been. All the wonderful people I have met. All the thrashings and exhilaration I have had.
From the earliest days at Sandy Point to Lake George, Primbee, Budgiwoi, Mallcoota, Marlow, Westernport Bay, Swan Bay, A45, Sharkbait etc. Some epic trips to Western Australia, to the legendary Mandura weed speed runs, Albany, and the remote wilds of Shark Bay. Some of the very best people you could hope to meet and share stories and experiences with along the way.
Having the great privilege of going on The Great Adventure to Luderitz, Namibia in great company, with the help of so many wonderful people in our community.
It's all just been one great big highlight to me. My life has been immeasurably enriched by so many of the friends I made and shared the journey with, and I hope this continues for many years to come.

Let the journey and adventures continue.

Here I am again, talking to myself, with my back to the wind. I can't seem to get this song out of my head...but it's keeping me company. I reach for my harness lines to get some more seaweed off. Not sure why I bother, something to do I suppose.

I'm about 500m from shore and the small chop is lapping about half way up to my knee. This is as deep as it will get. From here towards the trees it just gets gradually shallower and smoother.

The wind could safely be called a gale. Most sensible people are cursing this weather and hunkered down inside where it's warm and dry, but no, Mr Speedsailer had to sneak out of bed early and get here for sunrise. I hadn't slept anyway as the house was shaking on its foundations. I'd been listening to the gusts as they roared through the trees and was picturing what it'd be like at Primbee.

Well, now I knew. ridiculously cold and miserable with wind blown spray clouds...just how I like it!!!!!

I spin the cylinder of my revolver and try to beach start. I've mistimed it and a shuddering gust blows through, backwinding the rig onto my helmet. I grit my teeth and just hang on until it passes. By now my board has flipped, so I have to reset and wait for another chance.. maybe on a lull this time.

I spin the cylinder again and this time get both feet into the straps just as I get snotted by another gust. I'm barely moving, so I struggle to keep the nose out of the wind and get some power down. I slowly feel the centre of effort sort itself out as I come onto the plane.

Just on a beam reach now, running parallel to the shore. I hit some smoother water and quickly get up to speed. I know I need to be going at least 35kts before I hit one of the big gusts, otherwise I won't be able to manage that power or bear away. I cock the hammer with my eyes fixed about 100m ahead of me.

When I see the white gust cloud, I'm both smiling and ****ting myself at the same time. There's a clear line where the water goes from choppy into a maelstrom. The top of the small chop is just being ripped off into a mist about waist high. I know I need to slingshot just before I hit this mess.

I take a slow breath and pull the trigger. I drop down lower to the water in anticipation of the hit. Luckily I'm already doing about 37kts as the gust stands me up but I'm able to wrestle it down without backing off.

I'm only running a 17cm fin, so I know I can't keep too much weight on the back foot. I keep bearing away as the water gets smoother. I'm still accelerating but I know I've only got another 10 seconds until I need to bail. The trees are getting closer but the good speed and smooth water keep me locked in for just--that--little--bit-longer!!!!

At the end of a run I normally crank hard upwind to wash off speed.....but I've left it too late. I'm already scraping through the sandy weed at over 40kts, if I dig my heels in now I'll catch the bottom for sure.

I instinctively let go of my rig and lay back like a snow angel, feet still in the straps. BAM!!!

When the violence stops I'm lying on my side, but thankfully still in one piece. I see my rig about 10m away, almost in the reeds. I stand up a bit dazed and look down. I have to laugh as the water doesn't even reach my ankle bone.

Why do I keep coming back to this Russian Roulette?

Jetlag said..
Here I am again, talking to myself, with my back to the wind. I can't seem to get this song out of my head...but it's keeping me company. I reach for my harness lines to get some more seaweed off. Not sure why I bother, something to do I suppose.

I'm about 500m from shore and the small chop is lapping about half way up to my knee. This is as deep as it will get. From here towards the trees it just gets gradually shallower and smoother.

The wind could safely be called a gale. Most sensible people are cursing this weather and hunkered down inside where it's warm and dry, but no, Mr Speedsailer had to sneak out of bed early and get here for sunrise. I hadn't slept anyway as the house was shaking on its foundations. I'd been listening to the gusts as they roared through the trees and was picturing what it'd be like at Primbee.

Well, now I knew. ridiculously cold and miserable with wind blown spray clouds...just how I like it!!!!!

I spin the cylinder of my revolver and try to beach start. I've mistimed it and a shuddering gust blows through, backwinding the rig onto my helmet. I grit my teeth and just hang on until it passes. By now my board has flipped, so I have to reset and wait for another chance.. maybe on a lull this time.

I spin the cylinder again and this time get both feet into the straps just as I get snotted by another gust. I'm barely moving, so I struggle to keep the nose out of the wind and get some power down. I slowly feel the centre of effort sort itself out as I come onto the plane.

Just on a beam reach now, running parallel to the shore. I hit some smoother water and quickly get up to speed. I know I need to be going at least 35kts before I hit one of the big gusts, otherwise I won't be able to manage that power or bear away. I cock the hammer with my eyes fixed about 100m ahead of me.

When I see the white gust cloud, I'm both smiling and ****ting myself at the same time. There's a clear line where the water goes from choppy into a maelstrom. The top of the small chop is just being ripped off into a mist about waist high. I know I need to slingshot just before I hit this mess.

I take a slow breath and pull the trigger. I drop down lower to the water in anticipation of the hit. Luckily I'm already doing about 37kts as the gust stands me up but I'm able to wrestle it down without backing off.

I'm only running a 17cm fin, so I know I can't keep too much weight on the back foot. I keep bearing away as the water gets smoother. I'm still accelerating but I know I've only got another 10 seconds until I need to bail. The trees are getting closer but the good speed and smooth water keep me locked in for just--that--little--bit-longer!!!!

At the end of a run I normally crank hard upwind to wash off speed.....but I've left it too late. I'm already scraping through the sandy weed at over 40kts, if I dig my heels in now I'll catch the bottom for sure.

I instinctively let go of my rig and lay back like a snow angel, feet still in the straps. BAM!!!

When the violence stops I'm lying on my side, but thankfully still in one piece. I see my rig about 10m away, almost in the reeds. I stand up a bit dazed and look down. I have to laugh as the water doesn't even reach my ankle bone.

Why do I keep coming back to this Russian Roulette?

Brilliant!

one word.. Maui.

Onboard October 2009 long weekend at Beachport. Jimbob taking me and Dave Mossop 4WD'ing in his 1996 RAV4 (with his son's surf board on the roof). Before this day, I envisioned a 4WD in 1st gear slowly driving over a rocky road. But JB, rewrote this concept.

Most significant memory: We reach the rim of a sandy bluff. In it, was a Buggy race. Spectators were standing around the rim of this bluff. The convo went something like:

JB: "...yeah, they do this every year"
me: "Hmm Cool"
JB: "Wanna go down and have a look ?"
me: "ok"

So, down we go at some crazy decline and speed. We get to the bottom and enter the track. A Race Marshall hails us. JB pulls up next to him:

Marshall: "WTF are you doing mate ?, this is a race !!!"
JB: "That's ok. I'm a local !"

I'm a local......

and so we drive away. I look back at this poor marshall and his jaw is dropped. Meanwhile, the spectators on the rim are expressing their love to us for ruining their race.

Many many many more memories of that day. After about 3 hours in the dunes, I was that emotionally drained. After we dropped Dave back at this spit. I wasn't capable of talking anymore. I think I grunted a farewell to JB when he dropped me off at Surfer's beach. It was such a amazingly funny 4WD trip. Good times for sure. Thanks JB for that amazing experience

Windxtasy said..
January 2020 Liptons WA
>>>

Yes great day Anita, I remember that, it's when I lost my motion.
Don't think I mentioned Pt Grey, how could I leave it out, the day of my PB alpha was probably the best water I've ever sailed in. weed well below the surface like LG but seemed like a lot of oil on the surface, had my 5.8 up so it wasn't honking, but I was getting up to 30kts square, that just doesn't happen for me.

Awesome reading guys! Jetlag 100% relate haha!

Its been said before so many great Memories And being able to sail with my son for so many years a lot of proud moments too, I threw the little bugger in over his head a few times at big spots in big winds. It does make me feel good when I think about the time our Sponsors SHQ Fletcher and hutson asked as well mainly izaak to race the beach to beacon in Melbourne an iconic bay race Held for years That the great foxey had won the last six years straight (the other brand).
So to make it a big day that morning we got on a plane in Launceston With all our excess baggage and flew Melbourne . Picked up dropped off at the beach,rigged up sailed a couple of practice laps, a little lunch and lined up at the start With the who's who of Victorian windsurfers. We noted on our practice laps that the current was flowing across the beach and dragging you on to the beach so we decided to stay high round top mark so we could come down fast to the beach mark a plan. So we started foxey Straight to the lead izaak in about forth, the first mark foxey around smooth and heading straight to the beach mark,izaak with a blinder of a jib and moved to second and with this he stuck to the plan and went high, at about a k out he started to go for the mark foxy is starting to pinch to the mark,around the mark and izaak had made up the ground and was hard on foxey and like a good boy sitting in his blind spot and waiting for him look back,'eventually it got to much looked back and spin out. izaak went on to win , bit of a party and back on the plane.one big day, One proud dad day

The best part of the last 35 years of sailing is the people I have met and the friends I have made over the years. Westerlies at marmong point when it was still a speed strip comes to mind also.

One interesting episode I had that relates to muscle memory and how strong it can be. I had a diabetic hypo one day while out on my bump and jump gear. It hit me very suddenly and stunned me like slap across the ear. It's difficult to describe a hypo exactly. You feel very disconnected from your body and your surroundings. This hypo was a decent one but not enough to make me pass out. I couldn't focus for more than a second however. The really weird thing is my muscle memory took over and I just keep sailing along till I reached shore. I maybe could have gybed but I wasn't about to try it lol.

Visiting Oz, sailing the fantastic spots like Fangyland, Lilacs, Lake George, and more. So many sessions that we'll always remember - first time through the lanes at Fangyland; Nina duck-diving (instead of duck jibing) into the weeds at Albany, and needing 20 minutes to get rid of the weeds again; and of course Lake George, in a "choppy" year (ha!).

Meeting tons on friendly and great GPSTC sailors - too many to mention.

There were a other memorable sessions in Germany, Italy, Tarifa, Corsica, the US, and other places, but WA and LG stand out. Can't wait for the next time!