Who’s coming along? Who’s going when? Can anyone give me a lift? What’s the weather likely to be like? Has anyone been there before? Where’s the campsite? Why on earth is petrol so expensive? Questions upon questions – and a European Championship that kicks off months in advance in a chat group. But at the end of May, things really got underway: a small German surfing caravan set off for Austria. Nearly 30 sailors, ranging from teenagers to former Olympians, from title contenders to regatta newcomers. The plan: 50% racing · 50% fun!
Right from our first dinner together, it became clear that this equation works out slightly differently for everyone, yet still adds up. Because with Windsurfer LT, it’s not just about who wins the race or the event. It’s about the people you train with, travel with and, in the end, spend far too long waiting for the wind with. The European Championships were therefore less a single event than the culmination of a whole community’s journey.
Windsurfing sessions are like football training
Preparations began as early as the end of the 2025 season. More sessions on the Windsurfer LT, in both strong winds and light winds. The light-wind days, in particular, are a mental discipline in their own right. You look out at the water, look out at the water again, and hope that three knots have secretly crept in over the past ten seconds. On your own, you’d often just stay on the beach on days like that. But in a group, it’s a different story. Our Wednesday regatta is marked in the calendar just like football training: the appointment’s set, so off we go onto the water. Whether it’s a force 2 or a force 7, whether it’s top speed, your first glide or start training – everyone’s there, everyone learns from everyone else and everyone pushes the others on.
In Wilhelmshaven The club now owns eleven complete LT club boards, complete with rigs, which members can use free of charge. Around 30 riders also compete away from home. The local Wednesday series regularly attracts around 100 entrants across all board classes in the annual rankings. My training thrives on this too. The gym, road cycling, starts, manoeuvres and many hours in light winds: on my own, it’s often hard to stay motivated. Together, ‘There’s not really enough wind today’ simply becomes: ‘We’re starting at 6 pm!’
At Easter, more than 30 surfers from the Netherlands and all over Germany gathered for a training camp in Lauwersoog. Six days of training – for some of us, even two weeks. There was plenty of wind: a dream for the pros, but at times more like a survival course for the up-and-comers. During the day, it was time on the water; in the evenings, manoeuvre analysis – the moment when stories are exaggerated and sore muscles downplayed. In the end, it’s always a brilliant day’s surfing, somehow! So, during the training camp, what had started as individual plans for the season turned into a shared project for many of us. The trip to the European Championships is the next stage.
The Promise of the Rose Wind
Lake Attersee is situated in the Salzkammergut region of Upper Austria. It is around 23 kilometres long, covers an area of approximately 47 square kilometres and is up to 171 metres deep. The water shimmers in Caribbean hues and is of drinking-water quality. To describe it as a picture-postcard setting is almost an understatement. The lake is famous for the ‘Rosenwind’. In sunny weather, this thermal wind usually builds from the north-east from midday onwards and often reaches around four Beaufort. It can intensify on the mountain slopes, particularly on the eastern side between Kammer and Weyregg. In theory, that sounds like 15 knots every day and carefree racing. Many of us therefore arrived a few days early to get up to speed and familiarise ourselves with the sailing area.
But as we all know, in practice the weather often takes us by surprise: it had actually snowed in the week before we arrived. The sudden rise in temperature threw the weather completely into disarray, and the ‘Rosenwind’ was evidently working from home. Even the Star-class boats only managed two races during their regatta at the weekend. So, what were supposed to be two days of sailing turned into two days of occasionally carrying gear and the odd road bike ride to the café on the north bank. Those were moments when we briefly pondered the logic of regatta sailing: back home, we have an excellent spot. And yet we invest money, holiday days and many hours’ drive just to wait for the wind here. We’re all completely mad – but mad together.
What a start!
The European Championships kicked off with an opening ceremony: flag bearers, music, a buffet and teams from 16 nations. Germany fielded the second-largest team after the Netherlands. After a quick check-in, we headed for the weigh-in. As we’re all riding on identical equipment, weight classes ensure fair races. I’d put on some weight over the winter and ended up in Group B, and my goal was clear – well, almost: top ten for sure, preferably a place on the podium. But European champion would be brilliant too. So I’d deliberately set myself a flexible target. I didn’t know many of the international sailors yet and found it hard to gauge them. That changed at the first windward mark. I was in third place, worked my way further up the field and won the race. My flexible goal became a fixed one: European Champion!
The second race brought me straight back down to earth. After a poor first upwind leg, I didn’t reach the windward mark until I was around 10th place. In the end, I finished sixth. In the third race, I secured another victory. For me, it was the start I’d always dreamed of! This was followed by a fantastic dinner and a convivial get-together on the terrace. Photos from the first races were already being shown on a big screen, and we all had a laugh together at the best facial expressions.
When waiting becomes part of the programme
Over the next few days, we pinned our hopes on thermals: setting up, watching, postponing the start, watching again. At times, there were more opinions than gusts. Instead of the promised southerly breeze, we mostly had shifting winds of seven to 15 knots. In another course race, I was in the lead but missed the right moments tactically and dropped back to third place. When the wind became too inconsistent for further course races on the second day, it was time for the freestyle session. Much like in the PWA, this is contested using a knockout system. I qualified for the top-four final. There, each competitor gets a three-minute ‘super session’ on their own. I was up last, and after about a minute and a half the wind died down, which definitely didn’t help my moves.
Even so, the whole session turned into a real spectacle. The jetties were packed, every move was cheered on – and, of course, every fall too – regardless of which rider from which country happened to be on the water at the time. It was a massive party and provided plenty of inspiration for new moves.
The following day saw no races at all. Nevertheless, the trip never stood still. We talked shop, fine-tuned our gear, measured boards and sails, enjoyed more excellent food, had a beer or two on the club terrace and watched sunsets that made us forget every missed race astonishingly quickly. Whilst waiting out on the water, we cracked jokes, showed off freestyle tricks and, from a safe distance, told the race organisers exactly what they needed to do better – a core skill of every regatta sailor.
The marathon that changed everything
At the marathon, all the groups set off together: more than 120 sails on the starting line, a target time of around 90 minutes and just a breath of wind. My plan to take the preferred pin end failed completely. I was too late for one side and far too far back for the other. In short: I’d completely messed it up. So I powered through the middle, to where (almost) nobody wanted to go. It paid off. At the first mark I was eighth, at the leeward mark fifth. On the final leg, my heart rate shot past the 200 mark once again. At the finish, I came third overall and first in Group B. The months spent in the gym, on the bike and on the water were suddenly no longer just preparation, but this one moment – the moment when you know it’s all been worth it. In the background, I heard Bruce Kendall shout: “The guy with the pink sail is a pumping machine.” I might even have shed a tear or two of joy at that moment.
‘I was too late for one side, and far too far behind for the other. In short: I’ve completely messed it up.’
And the best bit? With more than 120 competitors, there are inevitably countless analyses of the results and evenings spent discussing which side was better and what definitely should have been done differently. It’s this shared musing that gives rise to the best stories. Especially those where the board is meticulously repaired in the evening, only for you to realise the next day out on the water that nobody had remembered the bleed screw. Stories where it sometimes takes a while before everyone can laugh about it again.
European champions!
On the final day, we waited right up until the last minute. It was a real nail-biter. Just before the start window closed, we headed out onto the water once more: one final race. I got off to a good start, but the upwind leg was a disaster. I missed three wind shifts, was in tenth place at the first mark and more than 200 metres behind the leaders. In the end, sixth place in the race was enough to secure the European Championship title in weight class B. A dream come true.
Of course, we remember the head-to-head battles and the finishes. But what stays with us even more are the things in between: the journey, the scenery, the meals we shared, unforgettable moments on the water and the time we spent together. More than 120 competitors from 16 nations gave it their all on the water and sat down together at the same table in the evening to raise a glass to one another.
“50% racing, 50% fun” is therefore not an exact formula. Some turn up with 90 per cent ambition, others with 100 per cent enthusiasm for a great week. What matters is that everyone is on the same starting line. The LT doesn’t just organise races, but also social get-togethers, training groups, trips and friendships.
In 2026, there are 14 ranking regattas on the calendar in Germany, and more than 60 sailors are already listed in the national rankings. From 7 to 9 August, Wilhelmshaven will host Germany’s biggest event – the Windsurfer Festival – featuring racing, camping, barbecues and live music. So the community is on the move again. For information and registration, visit manage2sail.com