The next day the weather Gods finally come to their senses and send us a moderate southerly wind perfect for flying here and after breakfast we head for the landing field. We meet Jose who is furniture in Organyas l.z. He lives in a camper there, speaks pretty good English, runs the school for a friend who owns it, organizes the tandems, sells the beers and on seeing us chomping at the bit gagging to launch educates us in the best time to take off (much later) and suggests at this time of the day we begin our training in la sporta nationale in which he is an grand master. Genuinely intrigued we prepare to pay close attention. He begins coaching us right away by mumbling something I could have sworn was “fuckin time do you call this?” under his breath, returning to his camper after serving us two beers with a smile and going to sleep. This is Spain at midday and the national sport is of course siesta. Ahh well... when in Rome...we grab a couple of chairs each for top and tail, crack our beers and the games begin. Other pilots begin showing up with deck chairs and hammocks but none even think about launching and seem to only have come to join the others in siesta. Around 4 in the afternoon seems to be the preferred time and we drive up to the launch which is probably only 200 meters up the 700 odd meter mountain. But this is Magic Mountain and 200 meters is more than enough height to begin to use the abundant lift to soar and thermal up over the top. We have a cool flight for a couple of hours exploring he ridge, jumping to the next valley which strangely just does not really work as far as lift goes but gives you enough to get back and we hit the l.z just before dark. The highlight of flying here though as I have said is the accro pilots that come here to train. They are amongst the best in the world and all the top stars come including the current world number one 1 Horatio Lorenze and the three Rodreguez brothers. They are all very down to earth guys even approaching us when they see our pathetic attempts at wingovers to give us some most welcome free coaching and tips for tomorrow. We drink a couple of beers with them listening intently in the l.z. and invite 3 Spaniards we met on launch, two of whom drive Lill Suzy back down the mountain for us round to the skylark for dinner. We are joined by an Austrian camped in the same spot who provides music, brings wine and more beer for the meal and the type of coffee strong enough to stop you thinking of an early night. The Spaniards provide excellent company, good quality hashish and a welcome invitation to stay with them in Barcelona in a day or two where Joe has to catch his plane home from. We party into the wee small hours and I go to bed wondering what I have done to deserve such a good life and hoping the good Lord dosent notice and put me in the shit I really deserve
Sunday, 20 September 2009
The Lord Giveth
The next day the weather Gods finally come to their senses and send us a moderate southerly wind perfect for flying here and after breakfast we head for the landing field. We meet Jose who is furniture in Organyas l.z. He lives in a camper there, speaks pretty good English, runs the school for a friend who owns it, organizes the tandems, sells the beers and on seeing us chomping at the bit gagging to launch educates us in the best time to take off (much later) and suggests at this time of the day we begin our training in la sporta nationale in which he is an grand master. Genuinely intrigued we prepare to pay close attention. He begins coaching us right away by mumbling something I could have sworn was “fuckin time do you call this?” under his breath, returning to his camper after serving us two beers with a smile and going to sleep. This is Spain at midday and the national sport is of course siesta. Ahh well... when in Rome...we grab a couple of chairs each for top and tail, crack our beers and the games begin. Other pilots begin showing up with deck chairs and hammocks but none even think about launching and seem to only have come to join the others in siesta. Around 4 in the afternoon seems to be the preferred time and we drive up to the launch which is probably only 200 meters up the 700 odd meter mountain. But this is Magic Mountain and 200 meters is more than enough height to begin to use the abundant lift to soar and thermal up over the top. We have a cool flight for a couple of hours exploring he ridge, jumping to the next valley which strangely just does not really work as far as lift goes but gives you enough to get back and we hit the l.z just before dark. The highlight of flying here though as I have said is the accro pilots that come here to train. They are amongst the best in the world and all the top stars come including the current world number one 1 Horatio Lorenze and the three Rodreguez brothers. They are all very down to earth guys even approaching us when they see our pathetic attempts at wingovers to give us some most welcome free coaching and tips for tomorrow. We drink a couple of beers with them listening intently in the l.z. and invite 3 Spaniards we met on launch, two of whom drive Lill Suzy back down the mountain for us round to the skylark for dinner. We are joined by an Austrian camped in the same spot who provides music, brings wine and more beer for the meal and the type of coffee strong enough to stop you thinking of an early night. The Spaniards provide excellent company, good quality hashish and a welcome invitation to stay with them in Barcelona in a day or two where Joe has to catch his plane home from. We party into the wee small hours and I go to bed wondering what I have done to deserve such a good life and hoping the good Lord dosent notice and put me in the shit I really deserve
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