Punta Pellaro, Reggio Calabria. The story of our first season: what we taught and, above all, what we received.

There is a moment, every afternoon, when the Strait changes colour.

The sea ripples, the surface fills with little silver scales, and Sicily, right in front of us, suddenly seems closer. It is the wind arriving. Those who live here recognise it before they even feel it on their skin: they see it.

We waited for that moment every single day, for an entire season. And every time it came, something happened on our beach.

We had no idea what to expect

When we opened we had very few certainties and one clear idea: to do things properly. With competence, with patience, and with that thing you cannot teach and cannot fake — love for what you do.

We had a stretch of beach, the equipment, one of the finest winds in Italy, and no guarantees. We told ourselves: let's give everything, and see what happens.

What happened went beyond every expectation. Not in numbers: in something far harder to measure and infinitely more precious. People.

The eyes of our students

If we had to keep just one image of this season, it would be this: the eyes of someone arriving on their first day.

Those eyes always say the same two things at once. I want this so badly and I will never manage it.

Then the hours pass. You learn to read the wind. You get it wrong, you laugh, you try again. The kite stops being a monster and becomes an extension of your arms. And then comes that moment — the real one — when the board lifts, the water stops holding you back and starts to flow, and for the first time the noise disappears.

Some people came back to shore and burst into tears. Some shouted. Some stayed silent for ten minutes, sitting on the sand, looking at the sea with an expression we will never forget.

"At the start I thought it was impossible." We heard it dozens of times, always with the same disbelieving smile.

That smile, right there, is why we do this.

Giving before receiving

We have no secret formula. We have a very simple one, and perhaps that is exactly why it works: always give before you receive.

It means the extra quarter of an hour when the lesson is over but you are so close to getting it. It means lending your own kite. It means honestly saying "there's no good wind for you today, let's come back tomorrow", even when the opposite would suit us better. It means treating whoever arrives the way you treat a friend, not a customer.

This season gave us proof of something we had only suspected: when things are done with love, professionalism and passion, people feel it. And they respond. In a way that moved us deeply.

Then the friends arrived

From Milan, from Rome, from Turin, from Puglia, from Sicily. Some we already knew, others we met here and are now family.

Some were guests of the tribe for days, sleeping here, eating with us, getting up early just to go and look at the sea. Some came to improve, for an advanced lesson, to steal that one technical detail that unlocks everything. And some, quite simply, came for a barbecue.

Because yes: we did a lot of kiting, but we also did a lot of cooking. And the evenings when the wind dropped and we all stayed there, with the smell of the grill and Etna glowing red on the horizon, were worth as much as the best sessions.

And then the world arrived

We did not expect it so soon. They came from all over Europe and beyond: people who had read about Punta Pellaro and wanted to see with their own eyes whether it was true.

We welcomed them in their own language. Because teaching a sport is not repeating a procedure: it is listening to a person, understanding what they are afraid of, finding the right words for that person. And the right words, almost always, are the ones from home.

Many left saying exactly the same sentence, in five different languages: we're coming back.

The hours that never make it into photographs

The truth is that a season is not made only of the beautiful moments you can photograph.

It is made of lunches eaten standing up in four minutes because the wind had come in and there wasn't a second to lose. Of naps in the shade with a cap over your eyes, between one lesson and the next. Of sand everywhere, always. Of hands helping to lay out a kite without anyone having to ask.

It is made of that rare, precious feeling of belonging to something. Not to a service: to a group.

The sea and the wind give no discounts

There is a reason these sports change people.

The wind cannot be bought, cannot be booked, cannot be persuaded. It can only be waited for, and learned. The sea demands respect and reminds you every time how small you are.

Anyone who learns to be out there — on the water, with the wind pulling and nothing else around — at some point stops thinking. And in that silence, almost everyone ends up discovering something about themselves.

We do not only teach kitesurfing and wingfoiling. We teach how to surrender to the beauty of what is already there. Which is the simplest way to remember that life, when you really look at it, is an extraordinary thing.

The season isn't over yet

As we write, the wind is still blowing. We carry on until the end of October, with the water still warm, the light turning golden and the beach finally all to ourselves. For many, it is the most beautiful time of the year.

And afterwards? Afterwards we stay. We are open all year round: for those who want to try for the first time, for those who want to improve, for those who simply feel like dropping by for a coffee looking out over the Strait.

If you are reading this and you feel like being part of it, know that the place exists. It is called Punta Pellaro, it is in Reggio Calabria, it looks Sicily straight in the eye, and the wind — that one — arrives almost every afternoon.

We'll be there.

Thank you. To every one of you who was part of this first season. It was not a given, it was not guaranteed, and it was beautiful.

The tribe is waiting for you.