RIGHT NOW, the sport is at the same point on its curve that snowboarding was when Burton and Sims took it from the backcountry to the big resorts. "The demographic is changing," says Christopher Nygard, a chairman for the Professional Air Sports Association, which has developed a certification system, similar to scuba diving's, to accredit both kiteboarding instructors and riders. "The period of only extreme-sports enthusiasts taking up kiteboarding is coming to an end." For their part, Forman and Nuzzo's latest strategy is an all-girls kite camp, taught by and for females. And there are grand plans to replace the existing lesson center with a 14,000-square-foot facility that will house classrooms, a retail shop, new business offices, a deli, and a massage area. The project, scheduled to be completed by next summer, also adds a private kite launch and a 14-unit condo complex. To fund the venture, Forman has taken out yet another lien on his home (on top of seven already). "We want to step it up a level," he says, "and growth requires cash." Forman and Nuzzo won't disclose how much they're actually raking in from Real, but they must be doing OK, with new homes, new cars, and a jet-setting lifestyle.

The project could very well be the world's first kiteboarding resort, a bacchanalia for water warriors where nothing is left to chance: When the wind doesn't blow, there will be surfing and wakeboarding lessons, sailing and deep-sea-fishing charters, sunset cruises, dune hiking, and kayaking tours. With Forman and Nuzzo, there's always a contingency plan.

"It's been our goal that while learning to kiteboard, you have the best time you've had all year," says Forman. In the BVIs, I experience that firsthand. During one particularly outrageous 24-hour period, I snorkel across a reef teeming with fish, kite off three different islands, go for a midnight swim under a full moon, take my first surfing lesson, dine on fresh tuna, indulge in far too many local libations, nap on a deserted beach, get in a food fight, race sailboats, and summit a peak.

But the best moment by far is on my board. One afternoon just before we head in for the day, Nuzzo is trailing me in a dinghy while I kite across a sapphire lagoon along the western shore of Anegada, a ten-mile-long coral atoll. He circles closer and stops, jumps into the water and grabs my bar, then does a demo to show me how to tap into kiteboarding's vertical dimension. I've yet to get the nerve up to jump, but Nuzzo makes it look easy. The technique is called "boosting." While edging hard, you briefly steer the kite opposite the direction you're riding and it'll catapult you into the stratosphere. I'm not ready for big air, so I only twitch my control bar a couple of inches. Suddenly I'm airborne, hovering four feet above the water, and silently gliding downwind. It's a heart-stopping rush. After a few seconds, the kite, now acting like a parachute, brings me in for a gentle landing.