We’re big fans of Huntington Beach, a small city on the very edge of the Pacific, so we get over there — about 25 minutes to our west — as often as the spirit moves us. Parking is easy and the subsequent walk to the beach is a matter of two or three blocks past several dozen restaurants and shops. You live there and your wardrobe can be complete with just one back-up pair of flip-flops. And more, there is almost always something going on in terms of events and celebrations. Given that HB is one of the surfing capitals of the west coast, you can pretty well count on big time competitions four or five times a year. And if you get lucky with your timing you can arrive in time for a kiting festival.

We were, and we did. Recently, we were in town on a Saturday and noticed dozens of kites being flown down on the beach, and resourceful me asked a guy who appeared like he could tell us more. “They’ll all be back tomorrow,” he explained. “Today is a practice day. Tomorrow is when the competition happens.” Good, I thought. Tomorrow we’ll come back armed with our cameras.

I won’t verbalize the obvious here. The brief collection of pictures will give you the idea, the exception being the final two shots: One is of Kris learning to do what she tells me to do on occasion, complemented by what she was guiding through the air. Truly, ya shouda been there.