I have been getting totally specked out on the new UP XC Summit provided in a cracking deal by Andy at Greendragons http://www.greendragons.co.uk/ ,the best glider I have ever flown (and I have flown a few), beautifully responsive and agile with excellent feedback when thermalling.(there you go mate, can I have my tenner now?) I am finding it a more than worthy successor to my veteran and now much loved Freex Arcane, (“that gliders rubbish!!!! it wont stay up when everyone else does!!! what do you mean I’m not flying it right!!!!!” me=ignoramus maximus) but getting back from an X.C sometimes is a real mission with lill suzy parked on launch so I think I will start to fly accro on the trusty freex again next week as most days have loads of lift, and top landing are quite easy with the biggest problem losing altitude and being picking your way through all the gliders on launch. Bring it on baby…..

Normal Service Is Resumed Now We Have Killed The Mice...

My repatriation to Spain in early March, however was timed to perfection (for a change). The dove has returned with the olive branch, the animals have left the arc two by two (“it was only a bloody month last time…someone open a window…!”…Noah) and normal service has been resumed, specked out for the first 10 straight days bar only 1.Almost fools you into thinking I knew what I was doing ,doesn’t it?. I am once again becoming familiar with many of the sites in the area and getting by with a little help from my friends…The local mountain here in Algodonales http://www.paraglidingearth.com/en-html/resultats_recherche.php pulls a breeze up in pretty well any wind direction as long as its light but is best in nil, s/e or s/w where it gets the sun all day. It also has a driveable north west launch, and a north east launch, but this is a 25 min walk. There is something for almost all wind directions when it picks up a little within 50km or so except a strong east which requires a 200km drive to Granada.The views over the flatlands from the sunrise and sunset launches include views of many of the other sites and they make excellent targets and markers for xc’s. With the town on two main roads on the compass points just follow one downwind. Lemon squeezy.

Earthquake Flood and Pestilence...

I remember seeing some pasty pale vegan(me=carnivorous maximus) prophets of doom on the idiot box predicting global warming was turning Spain into a desert just last year. Now I am as ready as the next one to accept climate change as fact (I can still remember all those years ago watching my Mum having to dig the snow away from the shed doors to get her old jalopy out every winter…you’d of thought at 25 I’d have give her a hand…*) but straight after a suit tried to sell me an energy saving ever lasting lightbulb for about £30. I think it’s a bit like religion...there's something in it…nobody really knows the truth...and someones getting paid. The previous rainfall record for a southern Spanish winter, December Jan Feb is somewhere in the 300mm range…this “spring?” as this page goes to press in early March it has already exceeded the 1200mm mark but at last shows signs it’s breaking…the landscape in Andalucia I have made home for the past months is as lush, green and unlike a desert as it has been in anybodys lifetime, and in the bright afternoon sun, resembles at first glance a particularly hilly Britian in the summer…on closer inspection however much of the terrain has changed permanently and biblicly in some places, with new spings and streams gouging huge erosion gulleys down hillsides and fields, forming new lakes in the lowlands and causing road devouring mudslides. The weather reports and forecasts showed torrential rain every week as far away as southern Morrocco…Even your barnacled seacaptain, mad as he was to fly all winter, thought discretion was the better part of valor, gave the order to abandon ship, (what I actually said was “fuck this…”) and went to England to escape the rain. Ha! England from Spain to escape the rain! That’s should seem as likely as travelling to a parallel universe where grass is blue, the sky is green and black people rule the world. Now I know I live in the twilight zone.

(*just joking…rip Mum)

Big Wheels Keep On Turnin...Primary Keep On Burnin...Rollin...

I don not use the word amazing very often..It has been overused in my opinion and therefore lost its impact...I once slept with a girl who told me the morning after I was amazing..."maam you are welcome ..."I said to myself inside a head swelling so much I had a stiff neck...when we finished our breakfast in the cafe she said "that was amazing..." "bitch..."my completely deflated ego said to itself..like I say...overused...this .season HAS been amazing but it is playing its swansong, the sun is further away in the cosmos every day. The heli practice continues for a while but although it’s still perfectly flyable most days gaining real height for manoeuvres is getting difficult. A slow but immediate release from the deep stall seems to work the best but it’s still very tough work getting all three stages, entry, rotation and exit right consistently. Weightshifting in the rotation also helps to keep it stable. Inevitably with learning this type of flying I do end up with another sick set of twists and a locked in spiral on one occasion, but it’s amazing how just having seen and been through something like this once gives you the confidence to stick at the recovery attempt that much longer. I decide not to back down from the bully after my previous experience and even though it’s hi G spiralling with twists I am determined to make a decent effort at kicking them out and within half a dozen or so revs I am able to untwist the risers, stop the spiral and regain normal flight. I am also so pumped with adrenaline by this time I let out a screaming celebratory yell that can certainly be heard through the entire valley and probably as far away as London. At this point I feel like fuckin superman. (this is more a reference to my state of mind than any sexual desire towards men in blue tights with belts round their outside undies)

Within a week or two the season ends in Organya and the rain starts to fall in earnest. Within a month or so the mountain tops will begin to turn white and the beautiful summer days and near constant sunshine I have enjoyed here for so long will be just a beautiful memory. The approaching winter has forced the native out of me and once again I must become accustomed to wearing shoes and shirts. I say goodbye to the many good friends I have made here who’s hospitality has known no bounds and have made me feel so welcome. Tentative plans are made for reunions on the rebound in the spring. Contact details are exchanged. My accro scoreboard goes something like this. Wingover/loop 100%, assemetric 360 100%, sat 100%, rhythmic sat 75%, dynamic fullstall 100%`, helico 35%, infinity tumble, don’t take the piss. I have learned loads.

My plan is to head south and spend the winter flying the coastal sites from Alicante to Aluminacar and the mountains from the Sierra Nevada to Andalucia. Southern Spain is the only place to be in Europe in winter and I am looking forward to spending lots of time honing my thermalling skills ready to attack the best sites Eastern Europe and Asia have to offer next year. I am almost shaking with excitement at the prospect of flying the mountains in The Alps, Slovakia, Pakistan and the Himalaya to name just a few. Watch this space.

I have no need to explain to you dear reader how much I love to fly and to be able to give and share this experience with others has gives me the same lovely warm feeling I get from buying a meal for one of London’s homeless or giving a gift to a loved one. Only more so. They spend the rest of the day staring skyward scarcely believing what they have just done even though they knew they were going to do it. It happened to me after my first skydive, my first flight and my first real xc. I’m sure if I HAD to get up early every morning to do this for a living this would pass eventually but I don’t, and I never bring money into it. Much like the part time teaching on the hill in the U.K the genuine heartfelt gratitude of the passenger is reward a plenty. I mean ,I had plenty of happy customers when I was working my regular job too but nobody ever reacted like that when I fitted their bathroom back in Blighty. Can you imagine...?...”OOOHHH I’m just soooo overwhelmed and grateful...that sink is just amazing!!!!....and those taps...!Please let me buy you loads of beer and dinner...”Sometimes it really is better to give than receive.

. After an easy launch in a reasonable breeze we are hoisted straight to cloudbase on the mountains magic lift without having to do much more than 3 or 4 occasional 180s. The biggest disadvantage to flying here is that you are likely to forget how to thermal if you stay in the area too long as it just works everywhere. This kind of lift can be a sign in a normal big mountain environment, that things are on the way to becoming uncontrollable and if you need to make sure while you can, that you can still descend. Here however this is very normal and a few hundred meters from the mountain things are much more normal. We have a very enjoyable flight around the valley for an hour or two and she turns out to be a very game chica who is up for wingovers and spirals and screams for more. My favourite type of passenger. We land safely at beer o’clock and she has a flying face for the rest of the day. A little dazed, constantly smiling and apart from a thousand thank you’s not much else to say. I am very satisfied with this outcome and not allowed to buy a beer or food for the rest of the day. Lovely.

After an hour so of our bullshit the previously limp windsocks and ribbons get stiffys and we head for launch. We get set up, and as it’s her first ever flight I make sure my passenger is clipped in and adjusted properly and brief her on what to expect on launch and landing, best and worst case scenarios, show her the reserve handles on both harnesses,my hook knife and tell her if it all goes wrong I’ll use it to cut away from her, she will be alone in freefall and should pull that herself. Her smiling face is a picture as it drops and the blood drains out of it on hearing this and Jose and I can’t help bursting out laughing. Just a little tandem joke. I put her straight on the reserve situation and her relief on hearing I’ve never even used one in normal flight is palpable.

The Beast With Two Heads Flies Again

Big breky not too early as usual and go off to meet Montse, my front crash protection, or tandem passenger, as I’m sure she would rather be referred. The weather today is beautiful like one of the best days of summer and, although it’s light wind now at midday or so things are bound to turn on soon as it’s absolutely roasting. Jose is in his usual spot in the l.z along with a half dozen others and we chill out waiting for it to switch on properly including our friend Pache who hasn’t been up lately and is keen to work some more on his accro. As I have mentioned before the launch is only about a quarter of the way up the mountain here such is the force of the vertical hurricanes that blow up the face once it’s on. We do our best to look clever in front of her when she asks exactly we are waiting for, and make a huge meal, as I’m sure it has been done by pilots to non pilots all over the world, of saying there’s no wind. I’m sure Stephen Hawkin has given shorter lectures on quantum physics.

Over the Back

Strong.Howling down the mountain...

Get drunk. Nuff said.

Room For Improvement

Better flights the next day but not really till evening and the second flight....the old harness is feeling fine now that I have decided I was being completely homosexual yesterday and obviously there is nothing wrong with it...it’s just different. The new washing bag turns up but the handle is wrong so I repack the chute that evening with a used one with Jose has in the schoolhouse. Very carefully. And double check it. It’s not the right handle either but it will do. I have seen 2 reserve deployment malfunctions here as a result of faulty packing and in both cases they were packed INSIDE OUT!! This meant the 2 shorter apex lines were OUTSIDE the chute dividing it in two and significantly reducing the surface area and increasing the decent rate. How many more little surprises are in store for the local pilots? And this, they told me is what passes as a favour from a friend? No thanks Manuel, at least if I cock it up myself I only have myself to blame. If I live through a deployment like that I promise I won’t be the only one getting hurt. If you don’t know don’t touch it. Word.

Old School

Still no reserve bag so I decide to use my old harness which still has a reserve in. The handle won’t fit my regular harness so there is no chance of a reserve swap but I flew with this harness the first couple of years so why not. It’s an older and much more basic harness with no stirrup that doesn’t have snug comfy feel of my regular harness, is not as easy to get in the seat of and makes me remember why I changed in the first place. It feels very alien, like everything is gonna fall out my pockets and flying accro I am all over the place in it. I pull myself together after an hour or so but the helis are still not consistent enough for my liking. This harness makes me sit more upright which is better for helis as the risers are less inclined to twist but it dosent help much. I decide to loop it up for a while and call it a day. It’s amazing how much a harness change can make a difference.

That night Jose, Izekiel and I go to the next town to a bar and get roaring drunk with some locals who foolishly agree to agree to act as ballast for my tandem next week. They are stoked at the prospect of a free flight and I don’t have the heart to tell them I’ve only flown it twice before and just want the practice. What they don’t know can’t hurt them. Oh no, that’s right. It can. Suckers.

All Stop

Grounded with no reserve bag today. Bollox...hope it comes tomorrow. So a slow day weather wise and pilot wise anyhow...Tidy the bus... do my laundry change the bedsheets and stuff...fried chicken for dinner...go shopping and see jose in the l.z and chill that eve with him lookin at the cosmos...

Marcus and Eva are leaving tonight and taking their reserve with them. Izekiel, who is Jose’s best friend and one of the local instructors, has ordered me a reserve bag, but Spain being Spain, there’s more chance of finding a crackhead in the Vatican than it coming in the morning, even though we have already been waiting a week or so. One of the Swiss accro guys who have been hanging out here breaks a bone in his wrist in a top landing accident on the dodgy rocky surface that looks so minor you wouldn’t believe such a thing was possible. Its a small but painfull fracture that will need 3 weeks to heal. Bummer. I’m thinking I need a smaller wing and have to visit England for a short time soon so will see what’s for sale at our club. A small DHV 1 methinks squire. Marcus and Eva come by that evening to say goodbye, leave me a copy of some of our flying including my laundry day and yesterdays dodgy top landing and begin a long drive back to Germany promising to keep in touch. They are cool peeps and I hope they do.

Deep Thought

Cool day today. Brekky with avocado and eggs...shopping..l.z... lots more heli attempts...my form is the same and I seem to have reached a sticking point. I am not sure exactly why....All the advise I get is very similar and what I thought I was doing anyway. Funny weather today with huge cumulous cloud early but no o.d ... All around the local mountains have extremely threatening dark cumies above but here things are lovely. The overdevelopment all around just dosent reach us,light rain is even visible in the neighbouring valleys and we fly all day in bright sunshine again. Magic Mountain. I think tomorrow I’m gonna try spin to heli just out of curiosity..I am beginning to think, as I always do when I have trouble learning something, that my tools are just not up to the job as some others have suggested but soon realise after so many good helis that just can’t be and as usual it’s me. There is also a guy here doing the biz on a fullsize Airwave Mustang so wot da fuk? I have spoken to lots of people to try to get a clue as to what may be amiss but the same info seems to being repeated. Get a smaller wing. Practice. I remember consistent thermalling giving me a very hard time a while back too and although I spoke to lots of very helpful people to overcome it in the end it was a hundred small things that needed changing and the only way to really improve was surprise surprise, more flying.

I eat with Marcus and Eva that evening drinking some unnamed German firewater around a campfire the size of which will never be repeated without malice by sober people...Marcus has been in Spain many times guiding groups and marks all the sites he knows of on my map including quite a few in Portugal. The drums tell us that night the guy from yesterday has a broken hip and will probably quit flying. So his life is over anyway really with no flying huh? Told you. I may as well have pinched his nose.

The slow release after the deep stall seems to be working better as an entry to the heli but im still wondering how to get it right 10 out of 10 like some seem to be able to. My form is very inconsistent...maybe 3 or 4 out of 10 but there seems to be no rhyme or reason why...I still have lots to learn. After resting on launch an hour or so the late afternoon and evening produce wonderfully smooth symphony of magic lift which is not much good for the kind of height you need for accro but mucho relaxing hands off flying especially after the usual daytime thrash metal.

. I get to launch at around 3...the earlier helis are very tentative and touchy feely after the previous events...2 or 3 wobbly revs max and an exit...probably a little post traumatic stress as much as I loath to admit it. I saw a lot of this type of thing after ‘nam. I am still not entirely sure why things went so badly wrong those two days earlier...the late afternoon though sees me settle down with much more success and lots of good helicos for loads of revs and more pilots than of late to boot. There are also a load of cock ups as usual but nothing a bit of cussing and a lot of heaving on the brakes wont take care of...and to be honest I am now so used to seeing my wing performing origami and making loud flapping noises that even these damage control and recovery measures have become a lot of fun to fly. They are also making me feel so much safer in the long run as I am now feeling that there is nothing normal flight can throw at me I wont be able to handle. As a wise man once said if accro was easy it would be called cross country. I fly some hi G loops to celebrate and top land happy for a rest...this in itself is no mean feat when the mountain is working its magic as the amount of lift here means approaching from 50 meters below, doing a 180 low over launch and fullstalling in...you may not get it right first time...you may not get it right every time...you may not get it right...mine this time was a little bit of a whoops, crash”...I’M OK!!!...”

All Ahead Slow

Found a shop in town that sells baked beans, which, as all nutritionists know are the cornerstone of any complete brekky so feast even better this morning...sort out a few adaptors at a local store that has everything for plumbers and gas fitters run by an English speaking Spanner. The Skylark, as regular readers of these pages will know is a well equipped and completely self sufficient living space but does need gas and water...different countries have different fittings for hoses bottles etc so I spend this morning converting my American gas inlet with a quick release and hopefully gas tight adaptor to fit the Spanish bottles.

Its Worse Than That He's Dead Jim!!!

When I say headfirst into the nearest rock, dear reader, I do not mean the bushes or the shingle or a loose rocky surface. I mean he’s has taken on the hot, hard granite mountain itself and lost. I unclip and climb the 10 meters to him down and across the mountain, just on time to find him regaining consciousness, straining for breath and wheezing like a stuck pig. The last time I heard anything like that one of the guys lungs had collapsed. Oh dear. He is also stuck on his side with one leg in a very funny (peculiar not ha ha) and painfull position trapped underneath him. Oh dear. I remove his loose fitting helmet to make him a little more comfy. There is a lump on his canister and the red red vino is flowing freely. He can barely move let alone stand but insists he’s ok and dosent need an ambulance. Being in shock will make you say the craziest things. I really want to go fly and it crosses my mind when I get to him and see the state he’s in that I don’t know the emergency service number anyway, I’m the only one who knows he’s here and, as he dosent want an ambulance, I could just pinch his nose and mouth, end his suffering, and get clipped back in. Nothing personal you understand, I just want to fly. Wot??? Come on! Hes well over 60 by the look of him, his best years are way behind him. Still, it’s been a long time since I killed anyone so I decide to call Jose in the landing field for a nee nur. Thats the flying day over really. Honestly, bloody Germans. First Poland and now this. Still at least the weather has let me put my shorts back on and I spend the rest of the day loafing in the L.Z with Jose and our friends Estrella and San Miguel (t.m.) who are always nice to us. There’s always tomorrow. Jose and I have been invited to eat at Mickey’s tonight. Mickey is the school and l.z’s big boss and has laid on a feast. We roast lamb and beef over his open fire with baked potatoes and salad with lashings of cold cold beer. Ol'e Mickey

An End To The Suffering

The next day ,after the usual hectic morning rush to get brekky and a few joints rolled before midday I hook up the external reserve and get back up to launch around 2pm. Everybody has started spinning and tumbling without me and who could blame them. I am the last one ready clipped in along with a guy who I recognise is an elderly German doctor who arrived a week or so ago with his wife who flies also. I really want to fly today especially after yesterdays cock up but decide to let him go first. Age before beauty. We are both in the reverse launch position. I give him a friendly nod to go. Despite the fact I am gagging to fly and belying his 20 years experience however, the good doctor decides he would much rather I spent my afternoon getting acquainted with him while waiting for an ambulance, and so, to reinforce his position he goes from the reverse launch position, omitting the traditional canopy stabilising and turn, directly to the more unorthodox flight and smashing headfirst into the nearest rock just out of sight position. Nothing stirs the bushes after. For fucks sake. OK,I think to myself optimistically, maybe he’s not hurt, just a bit embarrassed. I don’t speak any German but know he speaks a little Spanish so I call out optimistically “TODO BIEN...!!?”...no answer...Oh dear.

All is well but a lack of forward planning means I have no spare reserve bag and am effectively grounded at least as far as accro goes. I’m happy enough to fly without a reserve but I’m fucked if I’m trying any more helis without one. Marcus and Eva come by that evening with a bottle of plonk and he has the whole thing on video which makes pretty boring viewing I must admit but may make it onto a compilation in the future. He has a spare external reserve he is happy to lend me too. I liked him the first time I saw him. The weather is improving after a dodgy week and it looks like I’m back in action.

Jeaves!...Bring me my brown trousers...!!

After about a week of very soft flying the weather finally gives us a good day and it feels like summer is back where it belongs. I am not quite back in native no shoes and shirt laundry saving mode but at least the mountain starts, once again, to live up to its name and I begin to practice helicopters today for a couple of hours. After my third or fourth set things are improving from time to time and I pull a lovely heli for ten revs or as many as I like controlled and stable...but this is only half the battle...such a lovely long heli has made me smile and relaxed me a little too much. The exit is a fuckin nightmare of surges, rotation reversals and expletives. By the time it is what can be loosely described as stable I have three riser twists a small cravat and the beginnings of a spiral dive. Whoops. Although the rotating has stopped the brakes are pretty ineffective with the twists, the spiral is deepening and here comes the Gs. Three leg kicking revs later the spiral’s locked in, the leading edge is pointing squarely at the ground and the G’s are making it impossible to keep my head up, its brown trouser time and for the first time in almost eight years of flying I chuck out my washing and my reserve bag is lost along with scores of others on the magic mountainside. Its round about now I get that strange sensation I’ve experienced at various points when to an extent you are in the hands of the Gods. Time slows and you almost feel like you have all the time in the world to think...”I wonder if it was such a good idea to pack that reserve myself...Andy knows exactly what he’s doing and he’d of done it for nothing...if this doesnt start to slow down soon I suppose I’ll have to make an effort to lift my head and see whats going on...”The next few seconds I spend rotating violently and staring vacantly at the trailing edge of the wing waiting for the reserve to inflate and reduce the G’s a little. The reassuring crack and tug is next with the death spiral becoming a friendly floaty oscillating descent. I realise how high I still am and decide that if that happens again Ill have to make more effort to try to fix the problem and not to be such a big Jessie just cos its spiralling with a few twists. Next comes the safe and light floaty moment under the canopy before the landing. Hmmm. Its difficult to judge your decent rate up high and I’ve seen 2 pilots taken to hospital after reserve deployments so I realise I’m not out of danger yet. I am at least not coming down near any of the power lines that go over the mountain, now, the PLF. I have demonstrated it to students at the club back home hundreds of times but never really used it in anger. Feet together, knees together, legs slightly bent arms and chin tucked in. A million rocks below. Hmm. I eventually come in for a lovely soft landing without even falling over and am greeted by 4 of the pilots that were in the landing field who help me get the washing out of the bushes.

Things at magic mountain are getting slower and slower although the word from the word is the bad conditions here are because of a depression so I decide to stick it out for another couple of days. A few more pilots forced south but the worsening conditions in Northern Europe start to show up in the landing field and I make friends with a group of 4 Swiss accro pilots, a German instructor Marcus and his girlfriend Eva who are staying on the campsite and a few others. He also is flying a little accro and has a cool collection of wings in various sizes in his van. He is a 20 year vet, a safety instructor and like me had a broken back a few years ago. At least it shows he must have been making an effort.

Verga is a bona fide x.c. venue with a fairly low 300 meter takeoff but with the right conditions and skill it is possible to gain enough height there (about 200 meters over) to jump to the next mountain, then over the back to another huge limestone 1000meter plus ridge stretching for at least a couple of k and opening the door to the entire Pyrenees. The drive there is about an hour and a quarter and Bea is waiting to show us the way to launch when we arrive. We drive up to launch in her little van. Its an easy wide matted spot big enough for three gliders. We start well gaining a 100 mteres or so almost straight away but the day is a little slow and even though she has an “s” on her chest Bea bombs out with Francois and I after only 20 mins or so. Noel however catches one of the rare thermals of the day strong enough to take him over the back which he does after first performing a quick helico over us in the l.z. Bastard. We drive back up in our remaining car for a second go but its even worse and none of us even make the l.z. A farmer driving his tractor up the road picks us up on his trailer though so at least we don’t have to walk. We eat in the landing field and the guys freshen up at Bea’s house and shower a couple of pounds of dirt off themselves. We drink a few beers and head back to Organya. Lucia, one of the trio from Barcelona has come to visit and knowing what a desert Organya is she has thoughtfully brought a bag of the needful with her. Outstanding. Another evening spent between the landing field and the close by campsite with Not what you’d call a notable xc sucsess but at least one of us got away and we all got a little airtime of which there is no such thing as bad. Its the crashing into the ground you have to watch.

Francois, Noel and I decide on a change of scenery the next day and go to attempt x.c at a fairly nearby site called Verga about 60 km to the southeast. Another pilot, one of that rarest and most valuable of commodities in our world, a pretty single female named Bea(trice) lives there, so we will be able to get a little local knowledge. She is actually a former national x.c champ with 16 years experience, I’ve seen her flying Organya for the last week or so and she recently returned home so we will be in good hands. So female, good looking, exellent pilot ,dozens of trophies, ex Spanish champion, English speaking and single with her own flat. Oh dear. Shes gonna hate me isn’t she.

I have however started to enjoy some limited success with the helico getting 4 or even 5 revs on occasion, so being sure its possible, although more difficult on a wing this size, decide to perfect or at least improve my technique in the coming days. The weather though has other Ideas, the daily flying times are becoming shorter, the people to really get the best advise from becoming fewer. Vince and Jan are the next to leave after ten weeks here, Francois, who actually taught them to fly with young Manu, who at 19 years of age can tumble with the best of them, are next. Cyrill who has been instructing a group with his father follow a few days later. This leaves another Francois, this time a French Canadian* his Argentinian friend Noel who is a pretty fair accro pilot himself, me, Jose a few locals and the occasional nomad.
*what is it they say about Canada...? They could have had French culture British know how and American engineering...instead they got American culture French know how and British engineering...lovely people though...

TheThinning of the Herd

Morning again...where did that come from...? fuzzy head...go back to sleep and wait for the afternoon.
Afternoon...thats better. Greasy bacon sarnie and off for training. The landing field as usual has some now very familiar faces around but numbers are starting to thin slightly as the comp is over and summer is nearly too. A couple of weeks will see the campsite empty, the pool close and even the diehard travelling pilots who have been around for months return to their various realities. I take more advise from Cyrill, who is one of the few competing accro pilots left around and the current French champ, Francois and Manu about helicos. Their advise is the same. I have come as far as I can on a full size wing and to really go further I need, like them, a smaller accro wing, maybe a 22 sq meter to start. I check for loose change down the back of the sofa but find nowhere near enough to buy one, I check my diary for elderly relatives who I should maybe make more effort to be nice to in an effort to boost any potential inheritance but come up blank there too so decide I will have to make do for now without infinity tumbles.

We get together in the landing field that eve and I invite them round for a plate of pasta. I cook the pasta they bring the beer and hash...everybody wins. We have an enjoyable evening discussing the various ways we have reached the point we are at(drunk and stupid), get even more drunk with some more French camped opposite and decide to go up the mountain for a moonlight fly down. This again, is not everybody’s cup of tea but we are far too drunk to pay any attention to the prophets of doom and head up to launch with a satanically giggling and drunken Jan on the roof of the jeep holding our kit down as I career drunkenly round the hairpins up the mountain. Its not so much the flying and landing in the moonlight but more the setting up in the pitch black, and the promises of people with triple vision to give you an accurate line check as you stagger forward and launch into a backwind that make the event. After a quick top to bottom more drinking and hilarity follows, things get a little fuzzy and I have no idea what time I crash but the campsite is so quiet you can hear the crickets dropping their pins.

The Magic Circle

The day after the comp I again meet Jose and Pache in the landing field and they invite me to sit and lunch with them. They have put a delicious salad together and as those of you who know me well can testify when we were in the S.A.S they taught us never to miss an opportunity to eat. I intend to fly more deep stalls today with lots of spins both of which I am very comfortable with. The deep stall is what I want to really experiment with to perfect a faster entry therefore keeping the wing more straight and stable to ease the transition to helico. I put a couple more hours work into this while watching Vince and Jan perfecting their wingovers and the big boys doing tumbles.

In the end the top 10 were all guys who we have been flying and becoming friendly with over the few weeks earlier. Finished results were, first place Raul with Horatio second Felix and Alex next with Francois, who led us to Ager that evening before, fifth and then the Accro Canaries. My other new buddy Pache is chuffed to have come 14th out of 26 in his first comp even though he and quite a few others are again drying their kit out in the sun after spinning helico landings and death spirals into the lake. With our optimism exceeded only by our motivation now we decide to race back to Organya for the evening flight and start the spinning. I begin to try helicos which are well deserving of their reputation and realise this is not something I can get in a quick session in one evening.

The comp standard continues to rise this final day with more pilots than ever hitting the raft with the timing and moves becoming ever more spectacular. Smoketrailing helico to sat, sat to tumble, tumble to rhythmic sat, rhythmic sat to death spiral with wingtip and harness on the lake then land on the rafts bullseye. A person can be an artist, not just with paint but with food, clothing anything, it just depends on how good you are. With these people their art is accro and this weekend they have created a masterpiece.

They Go Down Tiddly Down Down

We awake after a good nights sleep with quizzical expressions late the next morning at 11.30 to the sound of a screaming paramotor (sorry, I’m a big believer in freedom of choice and know they are fellow pilots but I can’t stand those things), a generator and find all and sundry have moved into our bedroom with pagodas, picnics and the like without so much as a bye or leave. About 30 people are loafing close by. They have probably started a book on who out of the three of us will wake up first. I am absolutely roasting in my sleeping bag by this time of day and far too Spanish by now to be concerned by this turn of events, so I stand up and with a huge yawn, stretch, adjust my scrotum and go for a swim in the lake to freshen up.