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.