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.
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