When a cold front hits Lake Wolfgang, there’s no question about it – drop everything, grab your keys and hop in the car. 31 May. Forecast: a sharp drop in temperature, chaos, a storm. Sounds like the perfect day.
I’m usually early, taking my time to set up my quiver from 4.8 to 3.6 and waiting for the action to kick off. This time? Too late. A classic false start. The front’s already rolling in, so no time to think it over: 4.4. The happy medium. Or perhaps just wishful thinking. All around me, everyone’s rigging smaller – 4.0, 3.7, some even smaller. I’m sticking to my motto: “Go big or go home”.
One of those windsurfing days that make life worth living
Then it happens. This massive white wall looms over St. Gilgen. It’s no ordinary line of gusts – the thing looks like a flying wall of water. Seconds later, it crashes down on us. Out on the water, it becomes immediately clear: this isn’t ‘just a lot of wind’. This is survival mode. Completely overpowered, zero control – more body-dragging than a proper surf session. Most of the time we’re just hanging on in the water, clinging to our gear and simply trying not to be blown away completely.
"This isn’t just ‘all talk’. This is survival mode."
And at that very moment, Christoph is standing on the bank with his camera. Perfect. You can’t get more motivation than that – even if it looks more like a struggle than a stylish move.
But these are exactly the sort of days. Raw, uncontrollable, honest. When the wind completely tears you apart and you stay out there anyway. When the lake is completely deserted and there are just a few madmen left out on the water. Not fair-weather windsurfing. No Instagram-worthy gliding. Just proper front-chasing. And that’s exactly what you live for.
Text: Marco Lang
A video showcasing the Wolfgangsee
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