A kite festival with perfect weather, perfect winds, and the perfect team? You know, the one where everything goes up effortlessly, all the flying monsters are airborne, the lines have absolutely no intention of tangling, and a weary kite flyer can finally sit down, relax, and crack open a cold one with a bunch of best friends from all over the world?
Such perfect flying conditions that the masters – and us too – had to pretend to be fully focused on the arcane art of launching kites, lest the crowds start suspecting that the whole kite flying thing is actually rather easy?
That’s a rare beast – but it happens. This year it happened on the Platja de Gurugu, in Castelló de la Plana, Spain.
Welcome to the Festival Internacional del Viento 2026!
That weekend on the Costa dels Tarongers even the whales flew.
Beste bat!
– a rambunctuous Basque
It started rather innocently: old masters debating long into the windy Castelló night, young aspiring kite flyers sitting at their feet, listening intently, absorbing their kite kōans, nodding wisely while understanding perhaps half of what was being said.
But then a bunch of belligerent Basques barged in, smothering us with local tobacco, empty cans, and love. So much love, in fact, that Monica and Tan had to parachute in like a platoon of Blue Helmets, wielding threateningly the sacred water of tranquillity.
China water-mediated peace soon broke out, and even the Gods of Wind had tears in their eyes (that’s why the photo is a bit blurry).
The night was deep, and we went deep into the night …
Well, actually it started at the Ljubljana airport with a pleasant little delay to the flight to Istanbul.
– I… Istanbul?
– Yes, of course! How else would one go from Ljubljana to Valencia?
All airports are the same, except for the final one. At your destination, you find a tribe of strange people gathered around the oversized baggage carousel, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their enormous bags: kite flyers.
Friends.
Tonje! Emma! Christian! Laura! Michal! Peter! Sherin! Shahir! Federico! Fernando! Xavi! Enrico!
Hugs and kisses, and we squeezed ourselves into the vans, where our first mistake of the weekend was promptly made: we climbed into the one driven by Enrico.
One of us is terrified of flying, and the turbulence on final approach to Valencia was annoying even for Gregor the Sleeping Beauty, who is usually unconscious from engine start to arrival gate. But that was nothing compared with the insanely fast, time-warping ride down the highway. Enrico Fittipaldi threaded the van through dense afternoon traffic with one eye on the road, one hand on the phone, and both feet firmly planted on the gas pedal.
By the time the van came to a screeching stop at Hotel Bag, halfway between Castelló and the port of Grau, just west of the Greenwich Meridian, we were pale, speechless, and barely breathing.
But all our friends were there.
And the party had already begun.
No! Festival Internacional del Viento started the way all proper festivals do: with a grand opening ceremony!
Enrico was dressed smartly, Arantxa was positively radiant, and Begoña, the Mayoress, was impeccable as always.
And then the thunder began.
If you are not familiar with the term batucada, chances are your hearing is still intact. Ears and batucadas maintain a complicated relationship. A Castelló batucada, meanwhile, is less a musical and more a semi-controlled seismic event.
We could not really understand the speeches. Partly because they were in Spanish, and partly because the drummers of Castelló had already destroyed our eardrums, so even the excellent simultaneous translation couldn’t help much.
Then came the great parade of participants. We received our presents, the Mayoress received our flags, hands were shaken, photos were taken, jokes were exchanged …
… and before long the ceremony evolved into what all ceremonies secretly aspire to become:
A party.
The party featured a superb band, a generous selection of drinks, and excellent food …
– Paella?
– Yes, paella!
Yummmy …
Le vent se lève! … Il faut tenter de vivre !
– Paul Valéry
Well ackchyually the festival started when the first kite majestically rose into the blue Castelló sky.
Platja de Gurugu and the adjacent Platja del Pinar form a substantial stretch of the Coast of the Orange Blossoms: an uninterrupted Mediterranean beach running from Grau to the mouth of the Séquia de l’Obra, punctuated by volleyball courts, palm trees – and bars.
Like Solé Rototom Beach Bar.
Enrico’s bar.
Our base camp for the Weekend of Wind.
The beach was thoroughly occupied by kite flyers this year, as our ranks swelled to more than 140 participants. With the wind blowing steadily in from the Mediterranean, almost perfectly perpendicular to the shore, conditions were about as close to divine as the lying meteorologists would allow. Every kite wanted to fly. Over a stretch of beach just a little more than a kilometre long, some eight hundred kites filled the sky.
Almost one kite per metre of beach.
Few aerial spectacles can rival that.
The kite display eclipsed the aerobatic aircraft, hot-air balloons, and sailing boats that also formed part of the Festival del Viento programme.
Traffic on the avenue leading to Platja de Gurugu ground to a halt before noon. The free shuttle buses, courtesy of the Ajuntament de Castelló, could not deliver spectators quickly enough. Social media buzzed, word spread, and the crowds kept pouring in. More than fifty thousand visitors packed the promenade and the narrow strip of beach by the sea, all staring upwards.
It was simply magnificent.
Have you seen this man?
– Castelló police poster
Enrico and the Milotxes crew had the excellent idea of erecting a large tent in the best kite arena on the beach (that would be Arena D, naturally, because Team Slovenia was stationed there).
The giant tent became our headquarters, refuge, dining room, social club, and occasionally a place where people sat down just for five minutes and mysteriously reappeared three hours later.
The organizers also came up with the clever idea of dividing all kite flyers into meal shifts, ensuring that no arena, and more importantly no kite, was ever left completely unattended.
An important scientific question had been raised at last year’s festival, and this year finally provided the answer. But … one thing is providing a beer tap to help rehydrate exhausted kite flyers during dinner, and quite another is leaving it entirely at the mercy of those exhausted and dehydrated kite flyers. Especially when one of those flyers happens to own a bar himself and possesses an almost supernatural ability to fill glasses before anyone realizes they are empty.
As Marczin pointed out, we had seen this hooligan somewhere before. And we know that such thugs rarely operate alone -it could be an international, confused group.
But we couldn’t be sure, so we danced through the night …
What happens in Castelló, stays in our hearts.
Whose manta is that?
– a frustrated kite flyer asking redundant questions
Sometimes a kite gets really naughty. It simply refuses to behave, sways and dances like nobody is watching, brazenly sniffs other kites’ butts, and occasionally sneaks out for a drink in the middle of the show without telling anyone.
This time, surprisingly, it was not one of ours (though in Spotorno we once spent a good fifteen minutes laughing our asses off at some idiot who had flown his trilobite straight into the sea, only to slowly realize the trilobite was ours and the idiots were us). No, the troublemaker was flown by two of the sweetest kiters on the field, and true masters of kite flying: Lianawati and Indrajanti.
All the kites were flying beautifully side by side like well-behaved schoolchildren: mantas, lifters, octopuses, our giant … Proteus, shark, whale, all in neat formation. The spinners spun joyfully. The Polish cool black trilobite shyly flirted with the innocent white trilobite. Love was in the air.
And then suddenly …
The carnage was total. Only the Union Jack somehow escaped unscathed.
(Yes, fine, we admit it: this photo has absolutely nothing to do with the rogue kite. It was taken during a peaceful midday lull and is here purely for dramatic dishonesty.)
But then we realized the manta was not naughty at all. It was simply under such stress it simply couldn’t fly straight. The poor thing was carrying what may have been the most beautiful piece of aerial art of the entire festival: His Supreme Mythological Highness, Prince Rama.
One can’t even imagine the pressure of doing this right.
That sort of heavenly stress is not easy to handle, so the exhausted manta clearly needed a drink.
And so we all charged into the middle of the field. Gregor grabbed the flagpole. Arek climbed onto the roof. Sabrina brought the kite down. The rest of us coordinated, commented, observed, and pretended this was all part of a carefully designed protocol. T
The rescue mission was a complete success.
We all deserved a drink too. Hare Rama!
Flyers wanted for hazardous weekend. No wages, oppressive heat, long hours of standing in the sun, constant danger, safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in event of success.
– Sabrina
A kite festival is a spectacle that, rather uniquely, has four audiences, or four target groups, if one must use an unpleasantly corporate expression: four important clients who all need to be kept happy at the same time.
The crowd. The sponsors. The organizers. And the kite flyers.
The relationships between them are complex, delicate, and in many ways miraculous. The sponsors fund everything. The organizers hype the crowd. The crowd energises the kite flyers. The flyers awe the crowd. The crowd impresses the sponsors. The sponsors congratulate the organizers. The organizers go home and sleep for a week, dreaming of doing it all again next year, only a bit less chaotic. Which, of course, never happens.
Sponsors are pretty much the same everywhere: demanding, curious, annoyinig, and generous. Local officials too tend to follow this pattern, especially when they understand both how events are to be organized and how tourism works. Crowds are also broadly universal, except perhaps in places with long kite traditions like Urbino, Berck, or Ahmedabad – but in general one rarely hears kids on the field say Look at those amateurs, their line management is disgraceful, that’s not an original Peter Lynn, and the appliqué seams are frankly embarrassing. Our disappointment is immeasurable and our day is ruined.
Organizers are instantly recognisable from a distance of hundreds of metres: they are completely exhausted, with one eye on the weather, the other scanning for disaster, one hand waving at the crowd, the other three handling five phones, talking to seven people about twelve different emergencies and at least one thing that is already on fire.
But kite flyers … it’s like herding cats.
Who on earth really wants to stand in the blazing sun for hours, staring into the sky? Sabrina asked herself while compiling the initial invite list.
Who actually loves flying kites?
Or, to paraphrase Jeanette: ¿Por qué vuelas?
Because while kite flying is a lot of work, it is not a job – nor it should be. It may seem kites fly on the winds, but they really fly on enthusiasm. How to make a kite flyer happy? Give them somewhere to sleep, something to eat, point them to a nearby bar, and leave them on the field. They will gladly do the rest.
Years ago when we were preparing for our first kite festival a wise man from Croatia told us what good organizers look for in a kite flyer: Not fabulous kites, nor expensive equipment, nor impressive flying skills … It’s how well you play with others.
This bunch of kite flyers played with each other magnificently. For what’s worth, when we organize our festival again, these gals and guys will absolutely be invited.
They are simply the best.
Hey baby, wanna see my … picavet?
– Juan
So, KAP … kite aerial photography, finally. A picavet is a simple yet ingenious system of pulleys designed to keep a camera level and pointed in roughly the same direction while the kite carrying it sways about in the wind. Keyword: simple.
Juan is a engineer and roboticist in the making, so his idea of simple is different than what us commoners imagine the word means.
Very different.
Did his contraption work? Well, yes – and no … The connectors, radio controls, batteries, step motors, delta-wave hyperloops, and supramagnetic n-dimensional absorbatizators are all extremely sensitive, so when you notice a quantum breakdown in the zirconium bipolar control circuit, you really should detach the warp portal housing. And that is somewhat tricky when your simple picavet is hanging several dozen metres up on a kite.
Juan’s enthusiasm was somewhat contagious … But the weather was perfect, the kites were flying, and the cold ones were indeed cold, so there was very little motivation to take a perfectly good kite down, take the only KAP line we had, pull the only KAP kite from the bag, and do a full aerial photography session in the hot Mediterranean sun, while also steering the kite with a camera through the maze of lines.
But what can we do … we are KAP Jasa after all.
So Buco went up – three times, as the famous song says.
The beautiful crowded sky of the Festival del Viento …
And and the majestic Solé Rototom Beach bar … as a kite sees it.
There are two kinds of kite flyers my friend … those with anchors, and those who dig. You dig.
– Clean Herman
What the venue, the sponsors, the organizers, and the kite flyers all want from a kite festival is simple: it should be so good that everyone agrees to do it again next year.
From what we hear, Festival del Viento 2027 is already on the horizon.
But what really confirmed that we will meet this merry band of kiters on the Platja de Gurugu again was the spontaneous birth of a Challenge Trophy for the Festival del Viento, a sacred object destined to change hands at every festival, every year: the Great Traditional Shovel.
It is currently in the possession of Adriana (who may or may not have accidentally taken it to Colombia), and is now scheduled to be passed to Gregor next year, then to Shahir the year after, then to Sabrina, and so on … under the watchful eye of Saša, the future president of the Milotxes Club, ensuring that the rhythm of this glorious festival never falters.
It cannot stop. It will not stop.
No, no, no, no nos moveran!
– the Kukloks
As always, the last night arrived abruptly and uninvited. The sun set the palms on fire …
… and the Belt of Venus rose over the empty beach.
Yes, a night flying session was on the agenda, but the wind had slipped off to a party somewhere in Ibiza, and not a blade of grass moved. Even the old wind direction indicator, cigarette smoke, just drifted straight up.
That’s where the kites are supposed to go! said Marczin, and he and Arek began running up and down the pitch-black beach, dragging the LED trilobite behind them.
The poor thing really did not want to fly …
… but the crowds were cheering anyway, and the indomitable Poles went full berserk, with their eerily glowing monster bouncing behind them – until they finally burned through their very last ATP.
The Festival Internacional del Viento was over.
There are many, many more fabulous memories we brought back from Castelló – Sabrina cutting Christian’s hair, us joking with Collin about ze Germans, Arek with a gnome on his palm, me crashing the trilobite repeatedly over our other kite, the girls getting their hands gloriously dirty with henna, the early-morning ride with Thomas, Ina, and Herman when the world still felt half asleep, the coffees and deep philosophical debates at the airport that killed time so efficiently, Enrico getting lost on the way back to the hotel (yes, you absolutely did get lost!), the never-ending laughs with Claire and Dave, the fights with Filippo, the pure joy Fernando had at his first kite festival outside Mexico … the story (really, the stories!) could go on and on and on – but alas, now it must end.
It is time to pay respects and say thanks.
Enrico.
The Mayoress of Castelló de la Plana, Sra. Begoña Carrasco García, Sra. Arantxa Miralles Benages from Turismo de Castellón, and all the wonderful people of Castelló and Grau.
Xavi, Lidon, Pascual, Jordi, Esteban, Kike, Tony, and all the members of the illustrious Milotxes kite club.
Sabrina.
All the friends: Lianna, Laura, Nina, Pola, Barbara, Žuža, Emma, Tonje, Ina, Claire, Monica, Adriana, Sofia, Teresa, Sara, Renata, Sherin, Elena, Samantha, Susana, Ana, Rosario, Almudena, Elisenda, Natividad, Angela, Collin, Christian, Herman, Žare, Arek, Marczin, Dave, Thomas, Michal, Peter, Filippo, Tan, Javi, Juan, Pablo, Fernando, Federico, the other Fernando, Indrajanti, Eduardo, Diego, Renato, Shahir, Marco, Giovanni, Sebastian, the other Marco, Armando, Ricardo, Antonio, all three (or four – or five?) Josés, Javier, Ramon, Marti, Eric, Guillem, Humberto … and everyone else we might have inadvertently left out. You are all in our hearts forever.
The mighty drummers of Castelló (our ears still hurt!). The staff of the Solé Rototom Beach bar, and of the Hotel Bag. The drivers of our cheerful buses. Everyone who worked so hard to make Festival del Viento 2026 such an extraordinary event.
And all who came to the Platja de Gurugu that fantastic weekend, and enjoyed the show …
¡¡¡Gracias a todos!!!
Hope to see you all again soon, somewhere on a kite field with a line in hand – and definitely at Festival del Viento 2027!
Kite aerial photos shot by Juan on his simple picavet, and by the old Nikon P330 on Buco kite.
Enrico must have lost thousands while the unknown bartender band ravaged his beer supply. He won’t ever financially recover from it.
In all seriousness, it was a pleasure hosting you this year. We had lots of fun with you, and we look forward to see you next year. And the following one, and the one after that 🙂
Juan
P.S. Thank you for featuring the pictures! I think that the problem was with the descombabulator. Next year the cam will surely work… or not \_|^|_/.
It was so much fun, and I am already looking forward to coming to Castello again!
Of course it will work … 😉
Antes que nada! La gran pala tradicional se me presento ella sola y recibí un susurro en mi oido al recogerla de la arena “levántame, soy el símbolo de algo maravilloso, llévame y que la tradición inicie!! es necesario que viaje a tierras lejanas para que mi regreso a Castellón tengo un sentido especial”.
Días maravillosos y gente sin igual, tan distintos, en idiomas variados pero entendiendo lo mismo cuando sostenemos la línea de la cometa!!!
Hasta la próxima chicos, los amo.
Adriana desde Colombia 😊
Of course, I know – that’s the best part of a festival: great things just happen! 🙂
Thank you, and hope to see you soon again!
Love, S&G