Then ther were 6

The next morning we are greeted by clear blue skys,glourious sunshine and the awe inspiring sight of the dune in all its splendour.Its vast size and pine forested fringes would not look out of place with a pyramid or two thrown in.We eat brekky andload Lill Suzy with all we need for a days flying at the beach and get directions to the paraglider takeoff.Joes infectious enthusiasm and childlike energy levels take over and lead us to stop at the first available place to make it to a take off point where we wont be in any danger of wiping the tourists out.With reckless abandon we dump the jeep at the first roadside parking spot within sight of the dune and he leads us the half kilometre through the bushes to begin the 200 meter climb.I begin what turns out to be a 30 min struggle up the soft sand with my 22 kilo pack, every sinking step requiring three and immediatley regret the reefer I had smoked 10 mins previously. Joe however,who has the energy level of a small reactor going critical, drops to all fours passes me and Nicky in the first 10 meters with a smile a wink and with the phrase “four wheel drive mate” ringing in our ears and makes the climb in about 10 mins.By the time I summit Joe has unpacked his wing,flown the length of the dune and bumped into Adam and Kate who with a logic and calmness only a seasoned stoner could posses points out the path with a 10 meter climb they used, wonders why we are making such hard work out of such a simple task and passes the joint hes smoking.Still it was a good workout and did us no harm at all.We have a great wagga,fly all up and down and proceed to unpack the huge tandem wing.Adam ,probably somewhat foolishly considering I have never flown one agrees to act as ballast and misses the part where I say I only want to ground handle it and almost gives himself a heart attack struggling to drive forward for a half hour.Its a real bus of a wing to handle and strangely enough is as different to fly as the Skylark is to drive with loads of momentum a solo wing just dosent have.After a half hour or so I feel happy enough to fly it so we kite up to the top and take off.All is fine but I forget in all the excitement to adjust the trimmers which give it a better sink rate.We take off low and miss the dunes lift band but are airborne and cruseing.Adam is greatly relieved not to have to run anymore until I inform him we are out of the lift band and heading for a downwind landing at full speed on a very narrow strip of beach I must hit as we will probably drown if we land in the sea harnessed as we are to each other,and he as passenger in front will bear the brunt of it.”oh...”was all he said.With all the strength I can find I heave on the brakes to stop the beast with two heads as we come into a suprisingly soft landing all things considered but a wingtip is in the sea and waves being what they are the rest of the wing is soon being dragged in too.Between us we franticly drag the waterlogged deadweight out of the surf.Ahh well not to worry...first try and all...wont do that again...We trudge back up the beach with the now leadlike wing in its bag.”Solo flying for the rest of the day then...same time tomorrow mate?”I ask with a smile.Adam smiles back,says nothing and rolls a joint.That evening I hang the sandy wet stage curtain from the roof of the bus and we go into town to meet Joes friend Nat who has also arrived from the U.K. also and we all proceed to get roaring drunk and swap tales of the days events.Most satisfactory.