Kite-surfing around Fay

Bobby Koser, 21, from Tampa, wind-surfs Anna Maria Sound on Tuesday afternoon

As the outskirts of Tropical Storm Fay whisked by Bradenton on Tuesday afternoon, at least one local duo took advantage of the storm's gusts.

Bradenton resident Dr. Bob Koser, 54, and son Bobby, 21, from Tampa, spent a couple hours wind surfing on Anna Maria Sound.

"I'm playing hooky from work to do this," Bob said.

They glided across the water, sometimes up to 15 mph in the southwest corner of the Sound, just before storm clouds became to threatening to stay on the water at 2 p.m.

The wind was dangerous enough.

"When you go out there 100 yards or so," Bob said, "it's crazy and it gets hard to get back in."

It also can be hard just to stay on the board.

"There were a lot of crosswinds today," Bobby said. "You'll get going really nice and all of a sudden the wind will go south to north and the wind blows you right off the board."

Wednesday no doubt was an ideal day for all varieties of surfers who rely on strong winds, from kite surfers to wind surfers.

Bob said he saw a clip on a local news station of a kite surfer in St. Petersburg who got caught up in a gust and was slammed to the beach. "Then he held onto the line," Bob said, "he got back in the air, and it looked like he slammed into a house."

As Fay approached the Florida Keys late Monday, there wasn't much of a feeling of nervousness for Bobby.

"I was just thinking about making waves on the board," he said.

Offshore white out

Capt. Ryan Rolland, left, and Capt. Mike Myers take in an offshore thunderstorm

It was 10 minutes of rain shredding the Gulf, making the offshore water boil white, eliciting the sound of a lingering explosion.

Being in Capt. Ryan Rolland's boat at the time felt like going through a car wash on a ridiculously high-pressure mode. The boat rocked and flowed over the choppy waves. We could only watch.

We knew it was only a matter of time until the boat cleared the storm, and so, we maintained our course to "The Spot," as Rolland dubbed it on his G.P.S., a 60-by-60-foot area of raised bottom in 155 feet of water, about 55 miles offshore of Sarasota.

As we blasted through the storm, all was quiet inside the boat. We took in the sight. Some stared ahead though it was no big deal. Rolland certainly had seen this before. Not I. "This is the outdoors," I thought.

Indeed, we were in the middle of the Gulf, under grayish-white skies, surrounded by a mass of gyrating water.

If recorded, the sound would be enough to doze off to.