Gibby was brilliant. A foul mouthed ex trooper with no real regard for people who interfered with his "doing what the hell I like" agenda. Absolutely lovely guy in every way.
It was a heart thing that got him, but frankly that's what happens when you live your life as if you need to pack a stupid amount of stuff into it, as he absolutely did. I totally sympathise with that.
Here's how his mind worked:
"Huge kite capable of lifting me off the ground? Yeah, why not, that sounds like a laugh!"
On top of that he was tremendously generous with his kite gear - I mean, honestly, who carries a spare harness two sizes too small...exactly my size on a perfect wind day. He always went well out of his way to give me a lift out of the city, and on most kiting trips I spent enough time in his buggy to get fairly good at it. First time I ever borrowed his buggy I ended up pulling powerslides with a 1.5m Sting.
He once told me that I hadn't nearly been eaten by a shark, I'd just kitesurfed alongside a harbour porpoise.
Gibby was brilliant, and I'm really going to miss him.
Yours,
The Rather Drunk Geoff
x
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