The New Adventures of Superfly

2010-05-30T03:46:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-05-30T03:04:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-05-30T02:36:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-05-17T23:14:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-05-17T23:03:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-05-17T23:00:00.000-07:00

. 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.

2010-05-17T22:08:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-17T21:56:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-17T21:39:00.000-07:00

Strong.Howling down the mountain...

Get drunk. Nuff said.

Room For Improvement

2010-05-07T13:08:00.001-07:00

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

2010-05-07T12:56:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-05-07T12:43:00.001-07:00

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

2010-05-07T12:35:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-05-04T10:25:00.001-07:00

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.

2010-05-04T10:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-05-04T10:09:00.000-07:00

. 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

2010-05-04T09:54:00.000-07:00

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!!!

2010-05-04T09:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-30T15:23:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-30T15:11:00.000-07:00

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...!!

2010-04-30T14:50:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-30T14:36:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-30T14:30:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-30T14:24:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-30T14:20:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-30T14:10:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-30T13:54:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-30T13:37:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-30T13:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-30T12:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-30T12:22:00.000-07:00

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.

They Go Up Tiddly Up Up...

2009-09-20T12:13:00.002-07:00

As its not so far to the comp I decide to leave the Skylark and just drive Lill Suzy over for the day and take a sleeping bag and bedroll in case. There will be no flying anyway as its a tow launch by boat over a lake for the comp pilots only and sleeping out can be fun so I decide not to take a tent. What kind of pilot dosent take his wing anyway just in case becomes apparent later on when people start talking about flying Ager, a mountain about 30k away after the comp tomorrow. Some lead and others follow so I decide I will drive back and get mine that evening and sleep in Organya after the fun is over. The day after qualifying is the first I attend which although the skill level is high sees easily 70% of the pilots hit the water after missing the tiny 5 meter raft in a wind that is strong even for the small accro wings. They are having fun when they realise they wont make it though, helicoptering into the lake. Only 5 pilots hit the raft with the fifth being Felix girlfriend Charlotte. You can guess the others. When I return the following day the succsess rate is inverted however when people get the measure of the lake . Touch and goes on the water with harness, wingtips or both and spot landings included. I spend the day with a mellow buzz orbiting the site, giving and receiving intoxicants of varying kinds, swimming in the lake and in broken conversation in assorted languages . I have spoken in these pages before about what a beautiful thing it is to be so readily accepted so warmly by so many people you’ve only known a week . Paragliding is such a beautiful thing for sooo many reasons. The sky has multicoloured acorn seeds rotating out of it all day some leaving smoke trails as they go.
Later that day when the kit has dried, which dosent take long, five of us get together and go to fly Ager. Francois leads the way ahead of a convoy of 3 cars on the 40 min drive, we leave a car in the landing field before heading up the mountain road to the 1400 odd meter take off. A long limestone ridge with forest on a plateau 300 meters below it which is where I find the thermal that takes me back up the 200 meters or so I had lost after launch over the ridge to be able to scratch in a 100 meter lift band for an hour. A very pleasant and smooth flight although a little concentrated effort was required to stay up 100 meters above take off mostly in a consistent but gradually fading evening surf . I was pleasantly surprised to bump into Mike, a club member from back home on launch and after top landing stop for a natter with him and Toby from Passion Paragliding who I met in Morocco last year. They are here with a small group of happy punters and have teamed up with another group and their instructors for a week or so. I leave it a little long however and as Toby drives off to pick up his group in the landing field Mike tells me before he launches there’s a bit of a backwind building if you’ll pardon the expression and I should go sooner rather than later if I’m gonna fly down. I know he’s right and get set straight up but break a line on a rock running in forward launch mode and have to make do with an easy fly down with a brake line knotted a couple of inches short. It doesnt seem to make any real difference to how it flies though so I just crack on. We eat and chat in the campsite restaurant next to the landing field and all are happy with reasonable flights. We then drive back to the comp.
That night I sleep out with Vincent and Jan, a couple of French guys who are, like me, just hanging out in Organya and learning accro. We build a fire a little way from the tents near the lakeshore which although not so big attracts people with fresh stocks of intoxicants like moths to its flames in a steady rotation till the wee small hours. There’s nothing like a fire for making new friends. When I go to sleep under the stars people are still sitting round and chatting softly in 3 or 4 different languages.

Those Mgnificent Men

2009-09-20T12:13:00.001-07:00

The back fly and deep stall are the entry and exit to the helico or helicopter which is the most difficult of all the accro moves possible on a wing my size. They both require hours of practice as the wing must be flown in its most critical stages right on and past the stall point in full control while it is fighting ,as it was designed to do, to re-inflate and fly in violent if controllable surges. The brake pressure rises and falls very quickly requiring delicate and small control movements to maintain stable flight. You can fly backwards, straight down and in rotation and this balance and minute brake adjustment is the dance called helico.

Organya is filling up with ever more pilots for Spain’s first accro comp being held soon a couple of valleys over about 60k away . My flying, confidence and ambition are improving daily. The après vol sessions in the landing field are populated by Spanish, French, Argentinians, Austrians, Germans, Italians, Dutch all manner of Eastern Europeans and of course the odd(what did you call me?) Englishman. Everybody is predicting a fun comp with 26 pilots entering with all levels of skill but you must be able to do 3 revs in the helico to qualify. So there is no room for numpties like me. The favourites are of course the brothers with Raul in charge but Horatio Lorenze has been number 1 for 2 years now since Raul and Felix retired from full time comp to partner with Nova and develop their own brand of wing designed for accro. The Accro Canaries, another Spanish team are also extremely skillfull as their twin pilot spiral around sat shows when the wingtips touch. As well as these some of Frances top accro pilots have turned up and rookies and locals who live and work close to and in Organya have been training hard. This weekend they make their bones. I am nowhere near the standard required for comp flying but the last few days have seen me master the spin, deepstall and backfly which I can now control indefinitely so the helico is next. I can hardly wait.

They Followed A Star From The East

2009-09-20T12:12:00.000-07:00

That next afternoon I go for lunch with Jose and his friend, another pilot who I had met a day or two previously, named Pache who were in the landing field when I arrived. They take me to Rosas place. Across the Organya valley up the same mountain road as the waterfall jumps it is just basically a nice finca owned by a lady of a certain age who has any and everybody who knows round for lunch at 10 euros for 3 courses. It is traditional, very homely and as far away from a tourist trap as you can get. Spanish and Catalan are the only languages spoken. She is a jovial host and an excellent cook, whos bottomless portions would put any of the local restaurants to shame. She should be referd to as Mama Rosa.

T he flying that day is excellent . My wingovers become consistent and as huge as loops although I still need to perfect the timing on the left side .The results leave me itching for the next stage, fullstalls, which I have only ever done a couple of times over water on an siv 3 or 4 years previously. Never have I stalled my wing without direct radio instruction but master Yoda has spoken and he must be obeyed. After all do you wanna be an accro pilot or not pussy? I give in to the dark side. I switch off my targeting computer and use the force. At about 5000ft I lock my arms straight under my seat. The horizontal airflow, my heart rate, resperation and time decrease then stop. The shockwave from this extreme brake position starts at the wingtips and spreads symetricly through the canopy, which folds and concertinas primarily along the trailing edge, then completely in half leaving you weightless for a second as it collapses behind you and falls away. All four sensations return the instant the weightlessness is replaced by freefall while you drop past the flapping horseshoeing canopy then jerk to a stop at the end of the lines. This locked arm position must be maintained and then released slowly and symetricly roughly less than half up way to allow the canopy to begin its re-inflation and flight process. This requires some concentrated effort but gradual even and controlled release is critical. At the less than halfway point it will become clear that the centre of the canopy is thrashing back and fourth in an even and rhythmic if sometimes quite frantic pace. It is at the most forward point that the remainder of both the brakes should be released. The canopy should be allowed to dive and flown away . To release earlier when the canopy is at its rearmost point will cause it t surge violently forward past the stable flight point, collapsing completely and cemetricly at around the 9 o’clock when it is more or less level with what would have been your flightpath. You will then just have enough time to realise what a cock up youve made and call for your mum to tighten your papmers before you freefall past it and it re-inflates when you hit the end of the lines. This in itself is not as dangerous as it is unnerving the real danger being if the flapping canopy re-inflates unevenly or worse with a cravat quickly locking it into a spiral dive. I have spoken to pilots who have had to use all their strength with both hands on one brake to stop these spirals such is their intensity and others who go into complete brown trouser mode and throw their reserve. Not ideal. Having done them before though and getting encouragement from Alex beforehand I find It is actually a piece of cake with a few repeats needed just to allow the brain to process the new sensations. I fly full stalls for the last 40 mins that day and report pleased with my results to my master for new instructions. Alex introduces me to his brothers Raul and Felix. “Now you will be safe my young apprentice...” I’m told “Tomorrow you must fly backwards...” ...” Do fuckin what master?” I ask.

The Ways Of The Force

2009-09-20T12:11:00.004-07:00

The thermals are strong and unless you are training 4 or more hours a day for the comp most people don’t launch till after 4 in the afternoon when the air is calmer. Afternoons are turbulent with 12 ups (meters not feet!) not uncommon at this time of year so why struggle. The next few days are devoted to hanging out with the worlds best accro pilots and perfecting wingovers with the 80/20 weight shift /brake method given to me a few days previously by Alex. The trick is to swing as radically as is sensible out of the harness hands up on the dive maximising the lean at the bottom and following through, something like the timing you did on the swings when you were a kid. Hold this weight shifted position applying only enough brake at the 5 oclock still on the dive to keep the wing open plus a little more on the side of the turn. Too much brake especially on the dive kills the gliders energy. This method soon builds enough energy to send you looping upsidedown over the top of your wing with max g and lovely tight lines and of course is great fun. With the right timing the results compared to what I have been getting previously are spectacular. I go to bed happy as Larry the apprentice Jedi and get ready for full stalls which are next on the agenda with deep stalls for good measure.

And The Lord Taketh Away

2009-09-20T12:11:00.001-07:00

Morning brings another clear blue sky so we once again breakfast and go to take a chill pill in the landing field. We have decided all we will practice here is our accro. As was foretold by the sky gods it is almost impossible without exceptional skill or conditions to get away from here so I mothball the new UP to save stretching the lines, decide to stick to the trusty freex, taking an oath to get it upside down or die trying. The l.z as usual by midday has a few pilots practicing sporta nationale and we join them for a spot of training. This is always time well spent with tips and tales changing hands continually until 3 oclock or so when the first vehicles begin the short winding drive up to launch. Wingovers as it has been said many times by those who know are the basis for almost every accro trick and it is where we must begin to sharpen our skills. We are both capable of the odd wobbly wingover to a little over 90 degrees or so but what we want is to really get high above the wing with no collapses as we have seen. Weight shift and timing are the critical, and having been coached by the word champ we set about our task. The mountain has other ideas today and is not lifting as well as it can thanks to a nearby storm cell spreading light cloud over its valley. We work our best with what we have heaving on the brakes with gusto but things just are not really working out for us. Better, but no trophy winners. When we land that evening Alex Rodreguez, of the Rodreguez and SAT dynasty no less, approaches to give us more ideas for tomorrow. This does us no harm atall. 80% weight shift early and only 20% brake at the 5 oclock on the dive is what he tells us and allow the glider to gain as much energy as possible on the dive hands up. He is very specific and helpful and we get to know him and a few others that evening. It also comes to light cops have been sniffing round the Skylark while we were flying so we decide for the sake of 5 euros a night we may as well go back to the luxuries in the campsite tomorrow to save any hassle and what can be hefty fine for illegal camping. Also Joe is leaving tomorrow and we are heading for Barcelona to meet our new friends who have promised to guide us round town so will have a secure place to leave the Skylark. He will, Im sure, continue his practice in the U.K. We eat curried chicken for dinner and make ready for the trip.

The Lord Giveth

2009-09-20T12:10:00.001-07:00

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

Down By The Riverside

2009-09-20T12:07:00.002-07:00

We breakfast early the next morning (I think...no clocks remember?) with scrambled eggs, fresh bread and leftovers. I decide tents are for wimps and rib Buffalo Joe mercilessly about sleeping in one after his living off the land episode the day before. To redeem his status as a woodsman he goes fishing but using scraps of raw meat as bait. Im not sure what size of fish hes expecting to catch, Im almost sure its not Marlin season but off he goes anyway with a determined look to make like a gnome and no doubt re-enforce his potential as a tribal leader when the global economy finally melts down. Nat and I just stare bewildered at him and his meaty bait (not that meaty bait pervert) and open some beer. We watch from some distance behind him and occasionally call out with extremely unhelpful and sarcastic advice. “maybe a little paprika mate!” “they probably want starters first mate!” “maybe a nice little marinade...”It takes him a good natured hour or so to admit defeat and we leave after a fishless but never the less very enjoyable spot of camping.
The wind is still blowing the wrong way though so we cant fly and Nat has to leave today so Joe takes her to find a hitch. She prefers hitching to catching the 20 euro bus to where she currently lives in Barcelona, I guess to feed her sense of adventure. We get a heads up on another place to explore and we invite an English speaking French couple we met at the campsite to come along. High up a mountain road on the other side of the Organya valley we stop by a small bridge as directed. Under the bridge a fairly steep but short climb down a limestone rock face peppered with holes of all sizes leads to a small pool formed by a natural spring. The crystalline water from this pool flows in a stream with a smooth limestone bed which has cut a fairly deep sided path way over head height in most places as it meanders its way along and down at a slow steady pace, forming more natural pools at regular intervals of assorted, but generally increasing sizes down the mountainside. These are sometimes inhabited by water snakes but the ones we saw soon scarpered when they hear us splashing along. Occasionally the bed of the stream drops away to reveal a waterfall which you can climb up or down around but have large pools at the bottom as so its much more fun to jump . This is the way Joe and I descend the waterfall we come across but it is a 5 meter jump into a pool with boulders at the bottom so its not everyones cup of tea. The sun is blazing as always in the Spanish summer and we spend the day here with sandwiches and beers. Hmm more beers...I feel a pattern is starting to develop. That evening Joe and I in magnanimous mood after the money we saved not paying for camping eat out in a local restaurant and crash with thoughts of tomorrows flights and his impending return to England.

2009-09-20T12:07:00.001-07:00

Magic mountain
60 or 70 km later we arrive in Organya the next morning, after dinner and a roadside kip in a small mountain village to be greeted by, bright sunshine blue sky and a wind howling over the back of a totally unflyable magic mountain, so named because of the lift all over it? W.T.F. For this we left a flyable Casteon? Locals in the landing field tell us this is the fifth unflyable day and we take heart with this news reasoning that it cant last more than another day or two. We get set up in a local campsite with pool, internet, elec and water for a measly 5e a day again. I am later informed that pilots can stay for 100e a month. This is so much cheaper than being at home. As its not flyable we decide to take the jeep to explore, and an old Catalan woman on a roadside olive and honey vending cart directs us to a beautiful spot with a large natural pool by a small waterfall and we go river swimming. Joe likes it so much he decides he wants to stay there swearing he only needs his trusty pocket knife to be able to live off the land and to prove his point sets about attempting to catching fish the old school poachers way by hand. I have to agree with him about everything but a not so sure the supermarket wont be a little more use than his 3 inch blade. Somewhat predictably for a city boy the great white hunter needs to watch a few more episodes of Ray Mears cos he hasn’t got a clue what hes doing and we will all starve to death with him as our leader. At around 4pm I start crying my eyes out complaining of advanced malnutrition so we leave the giggling sarcastic fish in The Garden of Eden and drive back to the Skylark for food and beer to last the night. We also decide fishing would be a good idea, but like most normal people, you know, with a rod and tackle. I refuse to leave without my lucky fishing hat as I’ve never caught a fish without it...come to think of it I’ve never caught a fish with it...come to think of it I’ve never caught a fish but its still a cool hat. We arrive back and set up a camp which really for me just means getting my sleeping bag out of the jeep. Joe and I make a fire and Nat cooks. I sulk a little as the tranquilo twins won’t let me use any petrol. With hindsight this is probably quite sensible as I am already half cut, grinning uncontrollably with a 20 litre jerry can and a box of matches and it hasn’t rained round here n weeks. We have a tasty variation of camping food. Fresh corn we poached earlier that day and potatoes roasted on the fire, pasta and sauce, tinned fish, loads of beer. I construct a small basher as a windbreak and spend my first intentional night under the stars rarther than in a tent or just being drunk (ok I was a little drunk but this is still different) and passing out somewhere. Its lovely sleeping in the open next to a fire and we have found a huge stock of wood washed up by the river close to our campsite so keeping the fire going all night is no problem. With no lights or clocks drinking, chatting and laughing seems to go on well into the night but it was probably only 11 or 12 when we crash feeling quite the drunken woodsmen(or is that woodspersons for the fuckin p.c. nazis). The sky is clear, the stars are bright, the wind is whistling through the treetops but behind my little basher it dosent touch me. I lie in the moonlight on my back with my hands behind my head and my eyes open. The milkyway is clearly visible, I just need to hear a wolf howl and a quick chorus of” Dont Fence Me In” to send me off to sleep.

2009-09-20T12:06:00.001-07:00

Wide eyed and bushy tailed
The next day is similar with fair but not epic flying conditions and so we fly around the huge valley at Castejon along with 20 or 30 others again taking turns to tandem and speedglide. The cloudbase is reasonable, about 800meters above launch, the views are Alpinesque and after we land the river is lovely and clean, slow moving with smooth stony banks and a perfect temperature to cool off from the scorching summer sun. Damn its hard being me sometimes. We see a totally stereotypical Spanish horseman dressed in cowboy boots, jeans, long waxed cotton barbour type coat and ten gallon hat on a white stallion doing that dressage thing. He probably thinks he looks pretty cool and to be fair hes probably right. I don’t take his photo though as his head is almost certainly too big already, what with his wide shoulders, chiselled jaw and low bodyfat (what do you mean jealous...have you seen my abs?).
Time though, as usual, is our greatest enemy though and Joe wants to visit a place further south but still in the Pyrenees called Organya next. This is THE place to fly not cross country but accro not only in Spain but possibly the world and is the training ground of the Rodreguez brothers and the S.A.T. team. The brothers and their team need no introduction to those who know anything about accro but for those who don’t accro is paraglidings most spectacular discipline and the first time I saw it as a rookie I thought the whole team had suffered a simultainious malfunction and were about to be smashed into bloody pulp on the mountainside. I had no idea you could do such things on a paraglider. After half an hour of watching these guys at play spinning and looping I knew if there was a way I could learn even 10 percent of what they could do I could be having masses of fun. The brothers, whos father is a paragliding instructor, have been flying since almost before they could walk and between them pretty well invented every accro trick there is from scratch and their child is accro paragliding. They are undisputed undefeated world accro champions so many times(about nine I think) they got bored winning and retired from full time comp to give mere mortals a chance at lifting a trophy from time to time. He doesnt have to try too hard to convince me this is a worthwhile place to visit and we set off that evening.

2009-09-04T14:55:00.001-07:00

Aug 14 the fast way down
Adam and Katie leave for the dune the next morning without flying .Apparently she who must be obeyed is missing the seaside and not wanting too much fuss Adam agrees to make the 5 hour drive back and we bid them a fond farewell.I guess you cant please all the people all the time.There are lots of activities here besides flying with horses mountain bikes and kyaks on hire to name a few and it seemed to my selfish mind she could at least of let him fly the mountain once after driving all that way but what do I know.The three of us left head into the village to suss out a lift up to the huge launch which is around 2000meters above landing.Although this is just a small village with one main street the potential here is such that it supports 5 paragliding shops who all seem to be surviving perfectly well without firebombing eachother and were all here when I last visited in 2005.Joe decides to fly the speed glider and climes up another few hundred meters above the launch to make sure he makes the landing field as the glide on the speed glider is only about 5:1.He has been making calculations all morning on various scraps of paper relating to the height at launch,which we don’t know exactly,the height of the landing field, which we don’t know exactly and the distance to the landing field which ,you guessed it , we don’t know exactly.He thinks its on.If his calculations are correct he will have a cool fly down at top speed with room for loops and spins and we hope to get some cool video if we are close enough.If his calculations are inaccurate he will fall short and crash into the forest and we will get some cool video if we can get close enough.Everybody wins(don’t they?).I take Nat up on the tandem.She is a game girl and knows neither me or Joe have any tandem experience but I guess you don’t get free tandem rides everywhere and we are both pretty experienced pilots with hundreds of hours between us.On the risk verses reward scale most would have to do it.We wait for Joe to make the climb and set up before we launch to be able to film his flight and sure enough after a few minuits he goes screaming past us at top speed whooping and hollering.Iwant a go on that.We thermal around on the tandem for a while but such is his speed we don’t get close enough for any really worthwhile video.He makes the L.Z. with room to spare and I decide to take up his offer of a go and for the next flight we swap places.Im not looking forward to the climb but it should be well worth it.It is.I am getting one of these.The most fun for ages and a totally new way for me to fly.Everything is super fast including the launch and the same amount of control imput that make my paraglider do a 90 degree turn sends this thing looping towards the ground.I decide to email my club back home the first chance I get to see what type of deals are available.We meet up again back at the skylark and spend the rest of the day swimming in the nearby river and trying to smoke enough weed to bring our resting heartbeats down below 100bpm which turns out to be impossible.

2009-09-04T14:53:00.001-07:00

Return of the two headed beast

The girls are doing an excellent job keeping us all fed and clean and after brekky we drive a fully laden Lill Suzy up the mountain to take off.Nicky still a little low in airtime decides to stay grounded with Kate, Joe and Nat decide to fly the tandem.I decide to fly my new UP Summit and Adam as reliable as ever rolls a joint before joining us in the air.The Summit is a fantastic glider turning beautifully and to date hast lost a thermal yet...Joe and Nat have a fun if not epic flight on the tandem after Joe gets used to its huge momentum on launch. Travelling at night is definitely the way forward as we waste no flying time,have the roads to ourselves and obviously stopping for a sandwich and a bit of kip is no problem.The take off at Luchon in the northern Pyrenees is a large steep grassy slope at around 1500meters above the landing which is actually a light airfield the paragliders share with sailplanes cesners and the like.As the rules of the air go we as paragliders have right of way but having a twin engine turbo prop plane in your flight path will not suite everyone Im sure even though the landing field is huge.Conditions are fair and we all have reasonable flights over an hour long.Luchon is however a fairly narrow mountain valley and as such is subject to quite high valley winds on a daily basis rendering many afternoons unlandable without some difficulty if not unflyable.Nicky leaves on the train for Tolouse that evening to catch her flight back to Blighty and the rest of us decide to head over the Pyrenees that night for Casteon De Sos on the Spanish side where the valleys are huge and endless.There is massive cross country potential there with many world paraglider championship rounds held in the past.We load up the Skylark with water and beer and set off that evening along the winding mountain roads with Lill Suzy in tow and Adam and Kate following in their hire car.We cross into Spain after an hour or so and bid farewell to the French roads and their authorised highwaymen.The drive is only a couple of hours and we arrive with a fair amount of the evening left to get settled into the well equipped and very reasonably priced campsite which is again next to the landing field.

2009-09-04T14:52:00.002-07:00

Superbagneres
Dawn probably breaks the next day but there was never any chance of us noticing and with heads in various stages of labotomy we head back for our last day on the dune around miday.We have decided to leave after todays flying as although its great fun these guys have limited time and there is only so much floating up and down on the seabreeze you can do before the call of the real business of serious mountain flying becomes too strong.We leave that evening for Luchon in the French Pyrenees although we are all sorry to see the last of the dune for now.Its a 3 hour trouble free drive punctuated at regular intervals by the cursed French tolls to the mountain at superbagneres.It is a typically pretty small mountain town containing all you need to get by whatever you are travelling by with plenty of well stocked small shops,banks a cinema,bars and restaurants. We find a campsite which is unfortunately mostly populated by grumpy French pensioners who complain about everything from the music to the menopause.The former is switched off but can the latter really be our fault too?.We later learn that a rumour had gone round the campsite that because of our age and size of our camper they thought we were a rock band on tour and they were all shitting themselves wondering what that night may bring to their hitherto peacefull retirements...KERANGGGG!!!!...”HELLO LUCHON!!!!!”Luckily for them we are a nice friendly bunch and have a reasonably early and quiet night after a barbie and a few bottles of cheap French plonk.

2009-09-04T14:52:00.001-07:00

It gets better and better
The next day begins much as the first but we are obviously no longer subject to a dawn beasting up the dune from drill sergeant Joe.The tandem has dried out and been given a good shake to relieve it of its cargo of sand,the sea breeze is a welcome bit stronger today and I decide to invest an hour in mastering kiteing and launching the tandem solo.This turns out to be time we spent and within half an hour I become proficient and confident.The boys and girls in the meantime have been having a ball on the sandy slopes and I decide to join them.The dune must have a hundred pilots with skill levels ranging from experts flying backwards and performing huge wingovers with wingtips in the sand to total novices toppling over, being dragged and spitting out the sand.Professional tandem pilots fly a constant supply of tourists sending them home with once in a lifetime photos and experiences and planting the odd seed of thought here and there too no doubt.Half a dozen young Jedi probably no more than 10 or 11 years old are also dotted around learning the ways of the force with small training wings and hurling themselves down the dune under the instruction of their parents.They all have the kind of smiles that will ensure the sport will continue with more skill and bravado than ever in the future and I envy their head start.The sport is enriched greatly by these familys.I have been flying my trusty freex arcane and a light comes on after practicing kiteing for a while with the rear risers and I begin an enjoyable time flying backwads up and down,lying down,powering back up and upon coming a little low down the dune using the wing like the spinnaker on a sailboat catapulting myself back up it running round its outside.Fun fun fun.We shoot loads of photos and some video and generally run around under our wings like schoolkids.Joe and I spend some time coaching poor Nicky who is having a bit of a hard time as she hasnt flown in ages and was pretty inexperienced even when she did but she comes on leaps and bounds.He however provides the biggest laugh of the day by insisting I watch and film his next set of wingovers.Hes says hes got skimming the sand with a hand and a tip sussed after hours of practice and flies headfirst into the dune.”did you get that...?”oh yes mate
The seabreeze becomes a perfect speed in the afternoon and a tremendous time is had by all.We eat at a resturant and return to the skylark with a huge stock of beer and wine cementing the reputation of Brits abroad by parting into the wee small hours.

Then ther were 6

2009-08-30T17:08:00.000-07:00

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.

Whos the caaptain?

2009-08-30T17:05:00.000-07:00

A breakfast of dry roasted, roadkill and reefer sends us on our way at 9 am through the pretty French countryside toward our first destination,Dune Du Pyla,at around 200 meters the largest sand dune in Europe situated on the south west coast of France and a mecca for paraglider pilots from all over for reasons that will become obvious if you visit...the super consistent sea breeze and ultra soft landings are perfect for beginners first flights and pilots just wanting to improve their ground and wagga skills...Three hours or so into the journey and after some frantic teamwork reversing the roadtrain when I miss a low bridge sign chatting on cruise control (Joe:”do you think well fit there mate?”.me:”errr no”)Joe takes over the driving and I elect to take a thc induced nap in the first mates chair expecting and hoping to be woken when we arrive at the dune...what actually happened was that I was awoken by a rumble like a hundred thunder storms I haven’t head since the carpet bombing in ‘nam . The Skylark is hurtling down the hard shoulder with a blow out and a sweating grimacing Joe is fighting to keep us out of the ditch on the motorway verge.To make matters worse,not realising why we were out of control and still only half awake I spring cat like out of my chair and grab the steering wheel and Joe and I wrestle Abbot and Costello like left and right and begin debating which direction we should be going in.Whos the captain?No who is second in command.A brief and intense dialogue follows after which I concede that with only 3 wheels left we should probably be pulling over.We do so and we proceed to fit the spare.This is a straightforward affair except for the fact that the spare which has never been used is deformed and cannot be driven at over 30 mph without a wobble going through the steering which makes the Ben Hur chariot crashes seem like a Sunday drive in the country.A seemingly friendly French motorway rescue type pulls up and escorts us to the next truck stop which is only about a mile,sends for a tyre truck and leaves.Most helpfull methinks.The truck arrives an hour or so later but obviously still with Agincourt rarther than V.E. day in the forefront of the mind the odious toad proceeds to charge 1000 euros for a tyre.Its Sunday were in the middle of nowhere and weve got to have it.He should have been issued with a striped jersey and a mask.Thats the last time I fight a war for those bastards.
Still bad things come in threes as they say so between the ferry the low bridge and the tyre we are now pre-disastered for this trip and nothing else could possibly go wrong the way my freakishly optimistic mind works.We eventually arrive at Pyla that evening,find the main campsite(5e a night between us,hurrah!)stock up at a supermarket climb some handy stairs behind the campsite up the dune and up get roaring drunk and stoned.Too late to fly unfortunately with all the delays and still missing our friend Adam and his girlfriend Kate who were expected to be there before us as they were travelling by plane that morning.There is no sign of them at our campsite,his phone is switched off ,we don’t have her number and we are starting to wonder as things start to blur and we pass out that night if some hideous fate has befallen them also as Adam is an notorious and unrepentant stoner who has missed more than his fair share of planes,not that that makes him a bad person.In fact its one of my favourite things about him.

In the beginng

2009-08-30T17:04:00.000-07:00

The time since your intrepid reporter last wrote in October last year has been spent making feverish preparation for what promises if nothing else to be a memorable walkabout.The Skylark has ,since she left the U.S. has had her gas guzzling 6.8 v10 engine converted to run on lpg and her huge batterys are now charged with solar power largely eliminating the use of the on board generator.Her emissions are now so clean that when started butterflys and bunny rabbits gather round her exaust pipe and lpg being half the price of petrol leaves the bank manager feeling a little less suicidal than when I first revealed my intention to stop working and become a bum to him .Finances which will hopefully be enough stop me starving or pushing have been secured and a suprising number of publications have expressed an intrest in paying modest fees for reports of my exploits. Those of you who followed my original exploits in the U.S. may remember how I was broken hearted when forced to abandon my ever faithfull and super reliable Lill Suzy jeep in Conneticut,the shipping cost to bring her along far outweighing her financial if not her emotional worth...She has since been risen in Croydon like a phoenix from the ashes in a shower of metal sparks ,grease and oil and after many hours of my cutting bolting welding and grinding,her replacement is even though I say so myself better suited than ever for the task set before her and she looks pretty sweet to boot.
I had planned on making the journey alone from start to finish ,pilots on the whole being a friendly, helpfull and approachable bunch but upon hearing of my plans a motley crew of sky tramps of various experience elect to join me for the opening stretch of the journey,which will obviously ease the initial financial burden,give me a rest from all the driving and provide excellent company to boot. While still making final preps in dry dock my first two shipmates Joe and Nicky turn up.We have an 8 o’clock ferry at Dover to catch and I have lost 2 of the nuts that hold Lill Suzys towgear in place...without them we are going nowhere and frantic rushing around to replace them reveals that the Americans are still using imperial threads and they are almost impossible to find outside a specialist shop I use for fastners which is closed on Saturdays.The first of what will no doubt many improvised alternatives of the journey with no end is made with copious amounts of the ever usefull duct tape, we weigh anchor and leave port(or reverse out of the yard if you like) with barely enough time to make our deadline.We arrive with 15 minuites to spare and realise why we are at the front of the ferry que when we watch it pull out without us on board, check the paperwork we have been given and see we have a fun filled 2 hour wait for the 10 o’clock sailing...oh joy of joys...ferry port coffee and overpriced sandwiches for tea.We make an uneventfull but beer soaked crossing to Dunkirk,drive for a couple of hours and spend our first night at a truckstop on the French motorway.

2008-10-01T17:34:00.000-07:00

example of one difference…

americans have this kind of advertising…

… do you suffer embarrassing fidgeting in awquard social situations…are business meetings sometimes higher pressure than they need be…is rectal discomfort making your life a misery…use cooling hemaway spray …hemaways soothing formula and all natural ingredients will ensure you the soothing relief you deserve…organic products from pacific and indian ocean plant life ensure an all natural way to instant relief…millions of americans arent discussung this… its not a subject we broach but many of your friends are probably already using hemaway…sounds like just the job for the long suffering piles patent…you’ve almost eased yourself off your doughnut shaped cushon ready to “call now”… then comes the disclaimer…hemaway is not suitable for everone…if you experience dry mouth discomfort itching rash bleeding warts dizzy spells vomiting chest pains heart flutters or light headedness consult your doctor immediatly …do not operate heavy machinery drive or drink alcohol while using hemaway …
Wtf…I think I would rarther have a sore bum…

2008-10-01T17:33:00.001-07:00

why I fly
why do I sacrifice friends family home and work… just about my whole life for months and even years…just to stand the hairs on my neck up?...no…to pump chemical…maybe…to learn…grow…evolve…feel emotions like…apprehension…butterflies…elation…pain…disappointment…love…euphoria…experience a unique social interaction…yes..all of the above …and all of these things maybe even predictable before you start the free flight journey… but what you cant predict …what I was not ready for…is that along with the travel to places of mind blowing natural beauty… and seeing them from a unique perspective …is the interaction with natures elements on a level I never dreamed possible and still can sometimes scarcely believe…not just with the air mass but with the terrain the sun the moisture gravity…all of these things combine and morph uniquely to shape my space and trigger my reflexes…in a very real and at the same time zen like way there are times I feel completely that I am mother natures child as I surf the air currents and if I listen to and respect her she will guide me and protect me as only a mother can…with what do I possibly substitute this?(watch http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=cFJ55ApiBP8 ) very rarely do I feel really scared…all though there was that one time…

2008-10-01T17:32:00.000-07:00

Conclusion…
…america…the same…just a little different
poor America…so misunderstood…so prone to misunderstanding…this I think is partly put down to the nations lack of overseas travel as a whole…and who could really blame them with this vast and beautifull continent as a playground with all its diversities…from iceberg to desert and plain to mountain from sea to shining sea..america has something for everone and is populated by some of the most genuinely friendly and helpful people on gods green earth…these are truly lucky people…the way america is in the news I almost expected the country to smell of gun smoke rarther than pine forest…and although I know in some places it does I have honestly had the greatest time here and had I known it was going to be this good I would have made it possible to stay a year…

2008-10-01T17:29:00.000-07:00

This can be seen as pretty well it for act 2…this area is not called new england in jest…it is hundreds of miles of identical flora and forna to the countryside at home with an identical climate which means rain wind and the kind of inconsistent weather us californians just aint used to dude…it totaly harshes my mellow…the skylark will be on a slow boat to southampton within days and lill suzy will go to a new home…bill has proved to be a most industrious host with all kinds of resourses at his disposal to ease the passage…there is a chance of flying before I leave but it is slim and if it materializes will probably not amount to much… his wife is a fantastic hostess who says marvelous things in her new york accent like ”im italian…eat” …this is the beginning of a long journey many including myself dream off but few achieve choosing instead to wonder as an old grey familiar figure looks back out of the mirror at them what might have been…most cannot some want not but for the few the longest journey begins with a single step…make it…find a way… .it has been a pleasure having the company of those who have joined me through acts 1 and 2 in spirit through these pages as well as in body and I look forward to seeing you all and many more in act3…
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Et2Byl9Nh-k the worlds worst rv salesman

2008-10-01T17:28:00.001-07:00

Sun…mon…tues…wed…white lines
8 am…i look out the window…an overcast sky gives me the eviction notice I have been waiting for so I shower and go to the big aussies tent to bid him adieu…we swap details to stay in touch and i wonder if well bump into each other on a hill somewhere else in the world…i start cruseing north out of Jackson on the 33 to ultimately meet Interstate 90 east forever through Idaho…Wyoming...(nice pretty mountainous)…south Dakota…minnesota…wisconsin...(flat…flat…flat)…illinois(couple of laps round the chicago freeway system)…indiana…ohio…pensylvania…new York…and finaly conneticut…where everthing starts to look very much like home with late september rain rusting the leaves off the trees….i finaly arrive at bills…well…that drive was no real fun…america is BIG… but had its intresting points…and as a one off was better than being a plumber…

2008-09-24T21:04:00.001-07:00

Sat…all good things…
Weather looks ok this morn so go to join the circle of snails after breky…see aussie nick who tells me of a cool place hes been camping next to the river for weeks with no hassle…lots of r.v space…will check it out tonight as im still here…company will be cool also…sadly… regrettably… horrificly… depressingly…the spectre of my end of days in america looms unstopably like the dark cloak of night creeping over day…it hangs over my head like the sword of damiclees…like a gust front on a sunny day…like the perfect cumulus overdeveloping all around me…turning the sky black and turbulent with uncontrollable lift I am being cloud sucked toward oblivion into the pit of despair (or flat croydon as its known in south london))by the week day and hour…still all is not yet lost so I do a early lap…as I thermal around on the second I am aware this will probably be my last flight here so as uneventful as it is I stretch the flight to a full 2 hours never really much over the top of the mountain(400 ft 125m over takeoff )but always hoping for that single climb that will give me just a little more height to make the jump to the bigger mountain next door…I will miss this gondola set up…the easiest system I have come across yet to takeoff with zero hastle if you bomb…so a great place to hone your skills in the light stuff waiting for it to turn on…meet nick in the l.z…watch matt a local skygod make the jump and speck out solo…top land on a high mountain chill out for a while and fly off down the valley…so cool…get invited to a local pilot johns house for dinner with his wife…nice…we go to the campsite…situated perfectly at the riverside in the woods…I think I will invest in a pump to get water directly from safe looking water sources like clean rivers…then I wont even have to move to take on water in the right spots…johns wife does an absolutely bangin dinner on the barbie…we all chat wings and wind amongst other things and show off our photos...arrive back at camp late after a few britneys and light a fire…chat and drink some more an crash…

editors note

2008-09-24T20:49:00.000-07:00

… a very cool surfing film was on in the mangy moose last night...under the influence …to hear them speak it is obvious the surfers belong to the same type of passionate lifestyle fraternity as us…some take it more seriously than others but for those truly immersed there is no escape with all spare moments spent traveling searching for the perfect wave and all spare thoughts are of it…to watch it was inspirational…membership of our fraternity however requires the completing of complicated initiation rituals along the lines of “do you have a wing”…"yes"…"will you jump”…"yes”"…right… you re in"…from the time I became a frat brother I feel I have been given a silver spoon and looked after and guided like a family member by my brothers and sisters all over the world …a great privelidge... i will be happy to extend the same curtisy to any and everyone who has done the same for me on any of my future travels and all will be made welcome aboard my ship... http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=cFJ55ApiBP8

2008-09-19T20:46:00.001-07:00

Fri…
…cops come by around 10am to see what my story is…they are even nicer than the first lot and don’t even make me move…god bless america…when I was a younger man and very hotheaded I used to treat the police with utter contempt and tell them about their families in great detail…I also wondered why I spent so much time in court…the calm polite approach works much better when it comes to staying out of trouble and I am happy to say it has been many years since I have had to make a court appearance…go up the gondola after brekky and meet aussie nick shane chris wheels nicky matt chip and half a dozen others whos names I don’t recall…those of you who know me will know how well I have done just remembering them…my back is much better today and starting to feel once again like it belongs to homo-erectus rarther than one of the lesser great apes…go off for a sleddy and go back up…there are 15 pilots there by this time all waiting for it to switch on hoping for xc flights…the weather has other ideas however and clouds are building all around and you can see it raining a few miles away…the occasional gust over the back puts most people off but not your intrepid reporter who launches with 2 others and even finds a little love out there and gets up 1000ft…he also knows from the storm cells building around the valley not to hang around in the air too long giving it the large…land in the lz and meet a few pilots for a beer in the mangy moose…if the weather is the same tomora I will leave and start to make my way east to new york where my buddy bill lives in a big house with room to moor the skylark…meet a few pilots for beers in town at night as its once again an unflyable eve…zzz

2008-09-19T20:45:00.006-07:00

Thurs…watch and learn
Cool flights 1 sled 1 thermic…I get a good deal of height and practice more thermal tracking…some of the local skygods however realy speck out and reach 17000ft(over 5000m)and get long flights into the national park and back…one guy was getting low in there and could see 3 ranger cars converging on him from different directions ready to bust him for an illegal landing in the park…this is quite a major hassle involving a court appearance and a fine…he got a save at under 800ft and climbed away leaving them red faced shaking their fists…so long suckers…the set up here with the gondola is as near perfect to any ive seen…3000ft top to bottom..i have also discovered a couple of days ago pilots get a discount on the gondola and now I only pay $9 for as many rides as I can manage in a day…less than a fiver for all the fun of the fair…exelent…ive said it before and ill say it again…its hard being me sometimes…weather due to change soon …cirrus yest…cumys today…full moon tonight…rest my back…still no hassle about my camping…drive lill suzy around and find a couple of new spots in case …another curry…zzz

2008-09-19T20:45:00.005-07:00

Wed…ouch
Another cool day…higher than yest with a nice long flight above the mountain but the big boys are getting right away…must try harder and ask more questions…I don’t feel too bad as plenty of pilots are grounded before me and some of the guys who live here have been flying daily for well over 10 years…I wish I could get a matrix style download of their knowledge into the back of my neck…sit down just a little hard landing and aggrovate my old back injury…idiot…it now fells as crocked as a politicians smile…cook a mean veg curry for dinner…smile through the pain… crash…

2008-09-19T20:45:00.003-07:00

Tues…foreclosures up…
Breky…teton…one flight cool for 90mins… loved it…go shopping and have my land on the snake reposed by cops on my return…I put all thoughts of mentioning real criminals and doughnuts to the back of my mind as they are very polite and more importantly armed to the teeth with pistol mace tazer and billy club…(“you can get a long way with a smile…but you can get a lot further with a smile and a gun”…al capone)…im surprised it took this long…ive been here 5 or 6 days paying nothing and without permission…find a new cheeky spot near the entrance to the national park…no river but its beautiful everywhere you look here…also I can see the launch and will know as soon as it starts working…lovely…see how long it lasts…but it’s the right price again…free…zzz

2008-09-19T20:45:00.001-07:00

Mon…peak practice
breky…sledders till it works at lunch…stay up till on 3rd flight for an hour scratching…good thermaling practice in the light stuff…chill in the field and meet more local pilots…so many names I cant recall one…talk is too light to fly this eve and king mountain a new site tomora…3 hr drive…and not as big as this local one…hmmm…maybe…zzz…

2008-09-19T20:44:00.003-07:00

sun…happy returns
breky…teton…its my birthday today so I decide I will fly till I drop and start doing laps early with 3 sledys working on sats and wingovers…when I go up for the fourth I can see from the streamers way above its starting to go over the back…I don’t want to get the gondola down and its still blowing up on launch so off I go into the rotor for a last sledy…as I get through the rotor out front I hit convergence from the wind over the back and the thermals out front and unexpectedly corkscrew up 3000ft…I am the only one in the air and by the time the mad dash from l.z to launch is made by the others its unflyable and they can only watch me speck out…happy birthday…another super fun hour…I go to another launch just north of jackson town that eve and get my 15 mins and pats on the back from the previously grounded masses…only 1 other pilot got a climb all day…another lovely evening ridge flight 300ft over in the glass off for a couple of hours…feed the hms skylark…although I am camped on a boat launch site on the snake river my ship is totally self sufficient with piping hot shower kitchen heating air con and generator needing only to take on and dump water once a week or two…eat…crash…

2008-09-19T20:44:00.001-07:00

Sat …every rose
Brekky …teton…there are loads of pilots doing laps up the gondola…packed and carrying we all look like psycodelic two legged snails from behind…2 sleds for me and it blows over the back…curses…the trouble with the site is that although it is beautiful mountainous terrain the valley faces north south and the area has westerly prevailing winds that blow over the back at launch…the west facing slope there is in the national park and no launching or landing is allowed so it works best with no wind…I go to curtis… its kiteable but that’s all…peter calls and gives me directions to a much bigger launch at snowking mountain in jackson town but it’s a half hour hike…i decide to hike up as half an hour wont kill me and am mad for it...i have no idea how long the hike actually took but it was a lot longer than half a f%*!?ng hour and when I finally drag my panting disheveled carcas onto launch heaving my glider behind me I looked like I had been fighting a wet dog…and lost…and I only got a sledy…still…a good workout and just like the regiment days… forecast is to improve…go home…crack a beer and watch the river go by…sleep the sleep of the dead…

2008-09-19T20:43:00.004-07:00

fri … wagadabadoo
breky…go to teton…2 sledys…I extended them both to about 20 mins from 10…it goes over the back…bugger…curtis canyon is the one for the eve…in the elk reserve through Jackson town on broadway to the dead end and left…3 or 4 miles a right and a left and the west wind over the back at teton is right on the slope…cool waga time low soaring and playing around for a couple of hours with a dozen pilots…paragliding is quite popular in this area with at least a dozen sites within an hour drive…but no hangliders…dunno why…home…have another cold river bath and swim just for fun…my genitals however want nothing to do with it and retreat to the safety of my stomach to wait for spring…eat…zzz

2008-09-19T20:43:00.003-07:00

thurs…some like it hot
my guests leave first thing…I wish them good luck…glad I could help out some fellow travellers…nice morning…go into town…hit the net for the wind direction…good forecast due to get better…find what I need…go to nearby teton village and find the paragliding club…(….jackson hole paragliding)…a very professional set up with a real counter in a shop and a full range of the usual services…get asked for a licence to fly!!!…this has never happened in all my trips away…don’t they know who I am?...im bloody superfly!!!...what do you mean you never heard of me?...waffle my way through and get put on the firm…meet peter…a local pilot on his way to the gondola cable car...he says he will call if its flyable…I see him shortly after on his way down the valley well above the mountain…that will do for me…pay 16 dollars for a ticket…get the lift up …it’s a near perfect launch with a long steep grassy slope…I waste no time getting strapped in and off…(check it out here http://www.livevideo.com/video/35E10141CF124DCD9DA20DF7FF8C62E4/paragliding-jackson-hole-wyomi.aspx ) a great flight working my way slowly up and over launch 17000ft(500m) and head down the valley too…peter calls while im in the air and tells me he landed 12miles (20ishk) away …cool…after half an hour or so in building cloud 200ft or so short of base it starts to snow lightly…it clouds over after an hour taking away the love and I glide in for a landing in the official l.z…peter calls and meets me there…we eat at the mangy moose in the village and go back up…it’s a sleddy but still fun cos I love to fly and for one payment you can ride up till you are sick and the l.z is next door…party 2nite…cool…have a river bath in the freezing cold snake river just cos im getting carried away with the whole thing…the party is in a bar in Jackson town and has a nice social scene…hang for an hour or two …meet a few locals…zzz

2008-09-19T20:43:00.001-07:00

wed…stormy weather
we loaf in jackson hole most of the day dodging the showers…aparently settlers blew a hole in the mountain to get here and that’s how it got its name…I get a lesson in resourcefullness as they wander around town turning up one freebie after another(drinks clothes magazines etc) even leaving pizza hut with 2 free large pizzas all without stealing a thing…they are obviously seasoned hobos and its fun for me to watch them ply their trade…we spend maybe a dollar between us all day and no one is hungry…its another small western town… the type of place I can wear my cowboy hat without fear of ridicule…where you can find both types of music..country and western…and the sales assistants in some clothing stores smile and give you quizzical looks and wonder why you would want one without the tassels…we play pool and cards and generally kill time waiting for the weather to improve..i am not really complaining as although I am gagging to fly this is the first rain I have seen in 2 months…we all crash in the rv again…

2008-09-19T20:42:00.004-07:00

tues …long black and hard
…are just some of the ways I can describe the 20hr road to jackson hole(drag your mind out the gutter…what did you think I was talking about?) on route 89 in wyoming…I make port at a roadside diner and see a small group of hitchhikers on the roadside…30 mins later after shore leave I prepare to weigh anchor and they are still there looking very folorn so I take pity on them and pick them up…they will also help pass the time on the journey and I am not exactly short of space…they turn out to be cool peeps on their way to a natural skills training week in Idaho…(making fires…bows and arrows…skinning and gutting game etc)…these skills will probably make them the new world leaders after the global economy melts down…they are also big time hippies and we all bond by skinny dipping in the snake river as we cross…have loads of laughs… they hang with me the rest of the day…I invite them to stay as they are planning on camping out under the stars and its tres cold at night here and rain is forecast…we arrive in jackson hole and I get numbers for the local flying gurus but I don’t need them to tell me the weather is too crappy to fly…bummer…get a map…find a cool camp spot right on the river …I haven’t much food but treat them all to a plate of flavored rice as a thank you for not robbing and dismembering me…crash…

2008-09-19T20:42:00.003-07:00

mon…I want to break free
enough is enough…its now blowing a gale instead…I wonder if I missed it yesterday after the fog burned off but don’t think so…I want to fly and have a schedule so leave and bleech a few hundred miles east…sleep for 3 hrs and keep moving…I cross the entire states of california and nevada almost non stop and see the sunrise on the road as I pass the word famous bonneville salt flats raceway where all land speed record attempts are made…for those who don’t know it’s a huge flat basin with a salt floor that used to be the seabed before continental drift or the gods(take your pick)pushed it way above sea level and the sun dried it out…as a former big time petrol head this is cool place for me to see… however its v early and nothing is going on…I snap a few pics and keep moving…

2008-09-19T20:42:00.001-07:00

sun…look up…click…
still no wind(aaarrrggghhh) and its foggy so decide to wander round frisco looking up and takin photos…it is crazy city with more than its fair share of drunks junkies and nere-do-wells…cheap(read hot)goods and crack are offered with impunity on the sreets in parts and it screams more than most “gay so deal with it”…I do…I see alcatraz… loads of chess players on the street…hundreds of protected seals in the bay and the bubba gump shrimp co…wtf…it is of course a restaurant themed on the movie and I decide it will be a cool place to lunch… angelo(from deer creek) and my buddy bill from new York call to get updates on my progress…I fill them in and crash after a day as a reg tourist…

2008-09-19T20:41:00.005-07:00

sat…lets see
eat and go to launch…still no wind…it’s a nice cliff run right back to the rv tho and I don’t mind hanging out in frisco for a day or two to see if it switches on…but my desire to fly is growing exponentially as the days as a land lover pass…pick up some supplies and loaf around in the pool at the rv park feeling sorry for myself…

2008-09-19T20:41:00.003-07:00

fri…keep on movin
I arrive frisco proper and find a sea view again in a place called pacifica but with no back yard mountain…the campsite guys once again know where the launch is…a little coastal spot 5 miles north on the 35 called fort funster…I wonder how much funster the Indians had…it is late evening now there is no wind and I know it cant be working even as I drive up there…be good to find the launch to save time tomra tho…get lost on the way back and crash late…

2008-09-19T20:41:00.001-07:00

thurs...what the?
I arrive at mount diablo in walnut creek just off the 680 near Oakland looking forward to flying a new site…it is a national park and the warden on the gate tells me the campsite is full here but he can direct me to another “close by” that he has already called to make sure they have space for me…he even gives me simple looking directions to get there but it takes me nearly two hours and I am so bummed when I do I cant be bothered with the drive back…crack open a beer and drown some worms..it is a beautifull spot though but HOT… turn on the a.c…ah well…zzz

2008-09-19T20:40:00.003-07:00

wed… smile
breky and head out…the landing field is on the way to launch and there are some guys packing thereafter a sleddy and getting ready to go back up so I scrounge a ride up…nice…the day has switched on nicely when we arrive and although we loose a lot of height to start we all catch the same thermal and climb way over take off…im feeling pleased enough with myself to follow one of the guys away from the mountain…unfortunately for me he turns out to be a master pilot on a hot wing and I only last about 20 mins more in the flatlands and am given a lesson in working the light stuff as he gets a low save at around 200ft and patiently spends 30 mins working at it to get back up for another hour flying the valley flatland…I am very impressed…I had been working the same zero for a couple of mins and decided nothing could come of it and landed…way cool to see a jedi master use the force…a couple of other bomb outs join me in the landing field where the skylark is moored and invite them in for a beer …they pepper my maps with flying sites on route in return…fair exchange… I bid them farewell after a couple of hours hanging out and head for frisco…crash on the way after a couple of hours at the helm at sacremento….zzz…

2008-09-19T20:40:00.001-07:00

tues…here we go
much more promising this morn so head to launch…I fly but its tough and I get a 20 min slow sledy…hardly what I came for but better than nothing I suppose… I chill in the hotub and chat to some fellow guests…shabby but what can you do…another day another ducket…f%*k it

2008-09-19T20:39:00.004-07:00

mon…more windy crap
nuff said

2008-09-19T20:39:00.003-07:00

sun… take cover
the wind is even worse this morn and the good ship skylark rolls on the swell on the way to the casino…ah well I have had a good run so far in cali with the flying so I decide to read write and potter around the rv and relax in the pool and spa…the waiting game begins…I think the mountains may outlast me but I hope the wind does not…I talk to vic…he is in manmoth about 200 miles south of me and he says its blowing a gale there too …ahh well cest la vie…guess I just have to wait…

2008-09-19T20:39:00.001-07:00

sat…severe weather
I weigh anchor first thing and head for rose mountain and stumble across the launch at slide bowl on my way down the mountain…hurray…its deserted windy and over the back…booo…I find a spot under mountain to park with a view off take off and resolve to spend some quiet time waiting out the weather with a book…the wind picks up as forecast so I go into nearby carson city for a look around the place made famous by so many westerns…it is full of casinos amongst other things all of which have very reasonably priced rv parks with full services including cable tv and as a guest you are then entitled to use all the facilities such as spa pool hotub etc…hmmm…do some research and talk to a local microlight pilot…he says its gonna be bad tomorra too… I sulk call him names and slam the phone down…no but I am a little disappointed so look for the nicest casino in town and decide to move in the morning…chill…zzz

2008-09-19T20:38:00.001-07:00

Fri …severe weather warning
I leave Yosemite early next morn after a hearty breky and push further north arriving atlake tahoe in the late afternoon…I find an rv park to stay and question the owners about the local flying…they tell me Friday is the day the local pilots all fly at a spot called kings beach on the north shore of lake tahoe so I head off to interrogate whoever I can find…it’s a little ridge soaring site about 400ft top to bottom…as its late in the day I decide not to bother going to take off and talk to some guys already packing on the beach…they tell me of a larger thermic site a couple of hours away on rose mountain…a local also emails me info on sites near my next stop on the coast san Francisco…he also tells me of a gust front on the way due to arrive in the morning and last the weekend…curses…I thank him and decide to head out in the morning…eat…zzz

2008-09-19T20:37:00.000-07:00

Thurs…special forces training
I wake eat and go into” town”(such as it is…1 road)to make flying enquiries at the local tourist office as I still have no signal or wifi access here…the lady tells me there is world famous soaring at my next stop in lake tahoe… hurray…but nothing round here…booo…I drive into yosemite national park to explore the guerilla possibilities…paragliding is certainly possible here but not for the average pilot…not even for the above average pilot but for the commited(read certifiable)vol bivouac athlete who dosent mind minimum 5 mile walkups the launch and top landing possibilities are endless…for here in the high sierra mountains the gods have created not their usual display of dragons teeth and fangs but an endless smooth granite ocean light grey in colour with swells and tidal waves in excess of 3000ft(1000m)…the low lands are covered in pine forests… lakes teeming with fish and even the occasional landing field…gigantic male pattern bald cranium like highpoints protrude from their forested hairlines and produce thermals that can be clearly traced to their white fluffy destinations above…this is a great wilderness almost totally inaccessible(1 road right through and out) except by foot trails and this is I am sure what keeps the pilots away… it is a truly spectacular playground…there are also of course the bears and wolfs to think about when camping …the conditions on the day I was there were near perfect with light winds and a clear sky peppered with white fluffys…as my sas days are behind though me I decide not to opt for the twenty mile speed march and relax with a beer next to a lake and drown some worms to amuse the fish…quiet evening/night…move on in the morning…zzz…but no bloody flying…

2008-09-19T20:33:00.000-07:00

Wed… rocky II
Sky check…lovely…wind check…lovely…breky…lovely…load lill suzy…lovely…off to fly…I reuse my improvised launch from the previous day(whitney portal rd off the 395 in lonepine…on the roadside just before it disappears from the mountain front into the forest if you are looking)…the weather reports on line shows a light north wind right down the valley for now so things should be smoother than yesterday…although I have a fair amount of experience of simple/intermediate paragliding I am still very much on the learning curve and have virtually no experience of simply making it up with no help and advise from others…this along with the areas reputation is making me super cautious…we all know(and I have found out the hard way) this sport can be a very unforgiving mistress…as I set up on the roadside more bloodthirsty locals stop to see if they can witness my horrible bonecrunching demise…there are dollar bills being put in a jar I think…but once again I leave them disappointed and am away into the blue and loving it…suckers…the thermals today are smoother and each one takes me higher than the previous…my flying is also improving and I ride each to its bumpy limit being aggressive when the thermal is placid when it is not…as the day turns on my height gains improve and i can think my first flight over the highest point on any continent is here…the day only improves and I make it well above the highpoint and fly along and back over the spectacular peaks and needles… time is unfortunately limited and although this is the kind of day I can fly for miles I realize a retrieve except on my ones and twos for hours in the 95+degreedesert heat will kill any possibility of further progress north today (and possibly me)which I need to make to keep my schedule to new york…I decide to land next to lill suzy to make life easy on myself and save it for europe and asia where I will have unlimited time to get lost and practice my sas survival techniques(or get a cab)…I return to the hms skylark weigh anchor and make sail…I set a course 200miles north to yosemite…the landscape begins to become greener and the vegetation taller…I ascend almost the whole journey…the temperature falls into the comfortable high 70s…even some of the valley floors are over 8000ft up…I arrive at night and find a spot to crash…zzz

2008-08-27T09:04:00.002-07:00

Tues26…rocky
I get up early and eat…load lill suzy with wing boots water clothes and dr superflys now patented wind speed and direction assessment guage/fish catcher…I begin to calculate the takeoff equasion…wind speed over direction times height of terrain minus hours since sunrise…or is that direction over wind speed…I drive to the mountain…I study hard everthing I can think off on the way and stop a few times to check the wind…I see a couple of bombout spots but they are small and you still need to get it right…i look for a place high enough up the mountain road to spread my wing…I find something…some young passers by stop to see if what my story is…the bloodthirsty fiends ask if they can watch…no pressure then…I say they can if they are as willing to help if it all goes wrong…I have chosen a quiet observation point on the roadside about 7or 800ft(250m) up…I wander around sucking my finger and holding it up…I check the w.s.d.g.f.c…everything seems fine…still no fish but I clip in anyway…the small audience is indifferent…not much wind cos of the way the road is cut where the wing is… on the third attempt I am over the side plummeting towards the rockface below...no…actually im fine and soaring up the rockface tentatively probing the morning thermals…I scream inside and fall in love again…I begin to soar up the rockface…I go up quite easily a thousand feet or so and see if I can come down again…I can so I stop feeling quite so nervous and begin to enjoy the flight and climb again…it gets rougher the higher you get and I suspect the influence of a light west wind over the top I saw on a weather report online…I fly on till about 1.00 and although nothing is really making my spider sense tingle there are big sink areas as well as lift…I decide not to push my luck any more and effect a safe landing on the roadside after an hour or so in the bumpy thermic conditions…and so ends my first owens valley flight…nothing epic but lots of fun and at least for me a cool challenge which is why i came

2008-08-27T09:04:00.001-07:00

Monday 25…approaching
Hmmm… much weather nicer this morning… however I cant get a signal anywhere on my phone…the local flying guru kari castle has a website that’s down so I cant email her…there is no answer on the number I have for her…there are no pilots around…I decide to spend the day watching the weather…its really quite nice now but I am only too aware how quick conditions can change in the mountains…I decide on the advise of one of my temporary neighbours to go fishing…this I reason will give me a chance for an extended site and weather survey…I go into town…lone pine has a real western look…the type of place that only has one set of traffic lights and a 25mph speed limit nobody breaks…where im sure where everybody is on first name terms with the sherrif and ill bet somewhere close by the same guy pumps gas runs the post office and delivers calves.. .from the same store…still no phone signal…I buy a fishing rod and a roll of ribbon…who says men cant multitask…I drive up whitney portal road which leads to arguably the highest point in the us…I think it would be cool to see how many continents I can fly off or over the highest point of before I die…heres a start…I see a couple of potential take off s on switchbacks and overtaking points on the road up…I stop a few places and check the wind with my newly invented multipurpose wind speed direction gague/fish catcher…nicely up the hill…but no fish…hmmm…I look at the position of the sun…on the slope…hmmm…there a some very high clouds again but not as crisp defined and tall as yesterday…I go to a small pond at the top of the mountain and make like a gnome with the other gnomes…the water is crystal clear and we can see every fish in there…and they of course can see us …unsurprisingly none of them decide to ram my hook through their lip on the off chance of a dead worm and elect to stay out of the sun in the cool water drinking beers and laughing at me today…come back tomorrow they call…well see what we can do they giggle…on the way down this side of the mountain is now in shade and the wind has done a 180…hmm…better make it a morning flight…chill…zzz

2008-08-27T09:03:00.002-07:00

Sun24…do not approach
I wake early…its not that hot yet…I explore death valley a little…its actually quite hospitable with a free public pool and a general store and compared to what you might think quite popular…I get the t- shirt…the settlements here have names like see furnace creek and stovepipe wells...by midday I am simmering gently in the pool…its like a hot tub…death valley is 280ft(80m)or so below sea level and as the weather watchers amongst you will know hi pressure hot air sinks…and at this depth it can get higher and hotter than anywhere else on earth…some of you know me well enough to know I love it hot and even when not in the pool im not that uncomfortable here…neither however did the French endurance runner who came here some time ago to run across the valley floor…he took a wrong turn…a death sentence out here …it took the rangers a while to find his body… the sun had a week to dry it out and he weighed 15pounds…I head out after lunch…don’t want to get caught in rush hour traffic….the desert has dozens of different types of terrain that’s morphs itself around me as I munch the miles…owens valley is my next stop which is next to death valley…owens is a world famous site and many records have been set there…it has a fearsome reputation…to say it can be strong in owens is like saying the germans overstayed their welcome on their french holiday in 1939…its still august and I have been repeatedly warned nobody flies paragliders there till september cos its too strong… it has been known to snap hangliders in two…its about 4.30pm…as I clear the death valley terrain some of the biggest sickest stupid bare jagged gnarly rock ive ever seen comes over the horizon…and I my friends have seen rock…I descend into owens…the sky is a beautiful clear blue but a ferocious late afternoon valley wind is bending the trees and gusting to about 45 miles an hour(27m/s)…there is what i think looks like cumulous converegence cloud way over the peaks at about 17/18000ft (5500m) and im starting to wish I had my mum with me…its dark when I find a spot in a place called lone pine to park…I can hear the wind whistling and shaking the trees outside as I go to bed…I curl up in a ball with teddy and suck my thumb… http://everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=4844

2008-08-27T09:03:00.001-07:00

sat23… why rush?
Just for a change it looks flyable so deer creek it is…I am supposed to be starting my journey up the west coast today but why waste a flyable day driving when I can drive at night…it gets windy….its really cool though…we fly for 2 hours in an ideal wind direction for a cliff run down the coast but we spend so much time soaring around the creek by the time we push down the coast its too windy…we land at the lower take off and decide if I can get back off they will follow as I have the fastest wing…see what happened for yourself here… http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=fSJpHryPu3Q …leave deer creek for the last time… back to vics …start up the rv and head out of town…as he watches me drive away im sure he must feel like one of his kids has left home…I intend to head to new York via the west coast mountains to ship it to the uk… then to drive across Europe and asia to find the best paragliding in the world or die trying…the first leg is a 250 mile drive to death valley…I camp there late that night and wonder how hot the hottest place in the world really is…crash

2008-08-27T09:02:00.000-07:00

fri 22…fond farewell
wake up… brekky… chill …feed rv…go to vics…he has some rv related paperwork for me…he really has been a huge help to me since the time I arrived and we have enjoyed each others company immensely…though im sure id have got what I wanted without him hes made my beginnings infinitely easier…I am hugely indebted to him…any time you want to collect let me know my friend…we decide there is no need for me to leave this evening and drive to deer creek…we get stoned on the way and talk amongst other things about angels and aliens…we agree if one can exists so can the other and if they do they are probably even the same thing…some of you will relate to this better than others…we stop for a munch…some of you will also relate to this… we have a cool couple of flights for a little less than an hour …it’s a little weak but thermic… heres what goes on at deer creek every day...http://www.livevideo.com/media/playvideo_fs.aspx?fs=1&cid=C111348A0B114FF5BF2AF6565C7140F2 go for a Barbie at his… crash

2008-08-27T09:01:00.000-07:00

Thurs 21…north by norh east
Breky…as much as ive loved it here I must bounce north soon but decide to get a quick couple in before I go…wild stallions once again kick the stable door down and launch me into the stratosphere…its even stronger at times… the microclimate is on an upward trend I think…carefull…I don’t fly for as long today as days like yesterday tend to get it out of my system for 48hrs or so but still loads of fun but with an even bigger collapse… I actually loose another life when both sides of my wing deflate at once 40/20% in an area of the mountain well known for rough times by some as the crumple zone…I don’t exactly see my life flash but…definetly wondered which way to weight shift first…packing up on launch joe arrives and I agree to drive him up if he flies to the landing field…we chill out for a while when we arrive back on launch…I bid him adieu et bon chance and leave elsinore…I recommend it to anyone who likes to fly big air in the mornings everyday and chill in the afternoons with friendly locals but bring your pampers…I drive to Malibu canyon rv park back in whats becoming familiar territory…crash

2008-08-22T21:17:00.000-07:00

Weds20…approach with caution
Wake up on a rv plot next to beautiful lake elsinore and go to disconnect my geny and connect up my lecky…i find a couple of spiders in the lecky box which dosent usually bother me but something about the bigger jet black one made me look twice…i call again on my sas training…I think its a black widow so i poke it with a stick to see its bright red belly…it is..i bet that’s not in the camp brochure…my first close encounter with a deadly poisonous anything…cool…I poke it again so it knows whos boss give it the middle finger and weight shift away…I decide to break my habit of leaving my boots outside the rv…they obviously like the shade and a bite from one of these will make you fall right out of your thermal …drive to the landingfield after brekky…its empty so I drive to launch and joe is there set up and ready to go…but he has no real time to fly and only came for a quick sleddy…I bid him bon chance and drive to the slightly higher launch where because of its size there is a better chance to top land…I have the mountain to myself and decide its safe to surf this beach(apocalypse now…there is no beach)once again house works and I am hoisted up for a lovely first 45 min flight 1500ft(450m)over launch and its tres thermic…I land for a rest and a drink for 15mins and the bell goes for round 2…I launch…I scratch past where the house thermal is with no joy…i scratch along the spine…I am 300ft below launch…I am going down…much disapointment…at least there was wind at marshals…I scratch some more…almost at the end of the spine i find a bump and decide I better try to work it cos going down alone with the little jeep on launch will be a real pain…after a 6 or 8 beats it breaks away giving me a small 25% collapse which I deal with easily thanks to the freex arcanes stability…this may not sound like much but I hardly ever get collapses and this thermal has snapped my head back like a rodeo bull out of the trap and im cranked over on my wingtip trying to stay in the core…never back down from a bully…as I clear takeoff height for some reason the croaky voice of master yoda before he uses the force to lift skywalkers x-wing out of the swamp are in my head…”always with you it cant be done”…I ride it up 2500ft where it slows down and gets bumpy…it then smashes through the inversion into the beautifull blue above taking me up another 1200ft…I cannot describe the feeling of elation this kind of flying gives me…better than any dope…only the love of a good woman can top it(and I do mean good)and only a free flyer would understand…its why im hooked why I go to big mountains and why I never want to go home…(well I mean…bloody croydon)I land after 45 mins or so and just sit alone on takeoff gazing over the parched flatlands with an indelible grin…I long for someone who will understand to share it with…anybody seeing me sit there alone with this expression would think I was certifiable…what can I do to top that?…oh…of course…I put my harness back on…an almost identical flight follows this time with the sea breeze marching in a while after I launch causing convergance lift all over the mountain…I now cannot miss and for an hour it goes up everywhere I fly…my adrenaline spikes and i loose it completely doing spirals wingovers and anything else I feel…I love to fly…when I eventually land the wind is blowing down the mountain and another take off is impossible but its 3.30pm…ive been there since 11am… what a day…I cant remember anything else after landing…my mind only replay the days flights…I don’t know what I ate or when I slept…simply the best…

2008-08-22T21:16:00.000-07:00

Tues19…medium rare
Brekky…drive to launch…no paragliders are there(“its too strong”…not that old chestnut)…only hangies…its windy but I fly just to spite them…mediocre day …a bit thermic but inverted with the ceiling only 300ft over launch…spank a few wingovers and stuff which is always fun landing but decide to go back to elsinore where I had more fun and friends…arrive v.late…crash

2008-08-22T21:10:00.002-07:00

Mon 18…high adventure
Usual start to the day with breky and stuff…less fat more fruit…be good to yourself…marshals is a well organized club /teaching site with the only irrigated grassy landing field I have seen since being stateside…it is very professionally run by the an outfit called high adventure http://www.flytandem.com/justmaps.htm and the crestline(a higher launch over the back)soaring society…they are fulltime instructors and have big site overheads borne out by the fact that almost the first words out of the proprietors mouths are their prices…this is the first place I have had to pay to fly since being stateside but with the setup here you can see why and I have no problem with it…I feel however that a long time running a full time school has taken some of the fun out of flying for them and they seem a little disintrested after they realize I am doing my own thing and they will only be getting minimal daily charges from me…because of this I make phonecalls to the e team to get directions to launch(saving $10)..which is up a small unmarked dirt track on the left about 7 miles or so from 40th st out of san bernadino up the mountain on highway 18…hard to spot so watch out if you are going there…I arrive on launch at around 1.30 at the strongest part of the day to find 3 or 4 paraglider pilots sitting waiting for a wind dummy…dummy is my middle name so I get straight off after sussing out the conditions… top land to get my new vario(thanks to andy at green dragons http://www.greendragons.co.uk/ )and fly again…its windy and inverted… this breaks up the thermals that are there quickly spoiling the fun about 200ft over the 3500ft(1000m)launch…predictably they all launch within 10 mins of my takeoff…come on guys…no guts no glory…I land early as despite the wind there is no real lift I have the skill for away from the mountain despite its size and I chill for the afternoon watching the hangies come in to land…lazy day with an exelent pollo loco(mad chicken) dinner…crash…

2008-08-22T21:10:00.001-07:00

Sun 17…on the road
Early morn wake up and brekky…pack up and get ready to move but off to launch first…have to fix my priorities after all..meet some e (elsinore)team members on launch and loaf around watching the hangies rig and study conditions…this really is a great spot to fly and I am once again almost 2000ft over launch a couple of mins after takeoff with vultures circling close by…most e-teamsters are old school hangies but a few baggies pepper their ranks…the flying conditions are for intermediate + pilots… a wide but short and steep launch runoff with a large and hotly contested landing field…so the story goes 25 or 30 years ago when free flight first started in the area there was nothing much around and the landing field was just a worthless patch of scrub…the landowner at the time gave legal permission in writing to the e-team to land there with impunity…times change though and the 40 acre site is now worth something like $30million to its current owners and the amount they can make scrapping empty e-team beer cans dosent quite cover it…they are being badly out laywered as this goes to press and it may even be gone within 12 months…the ugly face of capitalism taking the free out of free flying…the performance of the hangies makes me jealous…pushing forward over the lake anytime they are ready to escape the sea breeze and find lift on the other side…a glide which would leave me swimming the last few hundred meters im sure...hmmm…i top land after chasing two bags in and out of the abundant thermals but never catching them…how do they do that…I top land next to the little suzuki after playtime shortly followed by the twin taunters and see one is everyday (flys everday)mike with whom I spent an enjoyable après vol emptying the cooler…the other is mitch(no nickname nessecary)mcaleer a 30 year vet legendary in these parts who has so many national level acro trophies he keeps them in boxes all over his house…so that’s how they do it…we are joined by joe and eric…we chat on launch and I get the skinny on my next stop…marshals about 40 miles away…I am hoping to get there in time for the evening glassoff but my crappy navigating means I wont do much but get set up tonight…ah well theres always tomorrow…and that’s about my biggest problem in life right now ...eat… crash

2008-08-16T23:14:00.000-07:00

Sat 16… loving it
Wake up to another beautiful morn eat breky and meet erik and another mike… two more hangies in the landing field and ponce a lift up to launch…another great day so I sky out for another hour and see joes glider top land…I top land to say hello… it blows over the back about 10 mins later… I cant get back off and I have to do the drive of shame down the mountain…I repair a couple of holes I have noticed in my wing and pack at rv…on the ground by 2pm and kicking myself for wanting to be sociable…defo marshals tomora…its an afternoon site and is meant to be bigger and stronger than here and work till it gets dark…bring it on baby…

2008-08-16T23:13:00.000-07:00

fri …is it a week already?
Wake up in elsinore …how did I get here?have to stop drinking like that…named apparently after an English kings mistress…a huge basin with an equaly huge lake about 5 miles(7k) by 3 very popular with powerboatowners whos wakes look like vapour trails from 5k ft above it..i meet vics friend in these parts joe…hes a likeable old school smiler who lives in a 45ft steel cargo container buried on the mountainside…the doors open to a magnificent view of the lake and valley below and it maintains a constant and comfortable temp in the 70s when its well over 100 outside…inside the setup is simple solar powered and secluded he hasn’t neede to paid a bill in years … I can see why he loves it …we take a tour of the launch and landing areas and decide to use the east facing top one…we fly…conditions are hard to read on the ground cos the sky is blue everywhere but its blowing nicely up the face and once airborne it is plain that its gonna be a good day… im on my way to 2000ft over launch shreddin thermals in the first minute and light aircraft begin pass under me … its located about 40 miles southeastish of l.a just of highway15 here http://www.paraglidingearth.com/en-html/resultats_recherche.php …you can see the sea about 15 miles away from this kind of height and its onshore wind blows over the back of the launch by 2 oclock almost everyday making it useless every afternoon… I land after a beautiful hour and a bit but in the wrong field …pack and get some good exercise tabbing back for 45mins or so…drowning in my own sweat I am welcomed by mike spike and geof …three hangie pilots who are chilling on a medium sized sofa under a large oak tree with an extra large cooler of beer … we proceed to ruin it the way god intended for the rest of the afternoon…outstanding…this is why we came…swerve back to the rv…what was that about drinking?eat…crash

2008-08-11T14:40:00.000-07:00

Thurs 7 pause
There now follows a brief intremission where I pause to surround myself with pink fluffiness ,wear a red nose and hit myself in the face with pies to entertain my 4 year old daughter …also a most rewarding pastime…refreshments will be served in the lobby…please return to your seat in the main arena five mins before act 2 commences so as not to disturb patrons seated in front…in a week …or so…thank you

2008-08-11T14:38:00.000-07:00

Wed 6… vips
Spend the morning chillin on the beach waiting for the wind to pick up…it does by lunchtime and I go to fly sand mountain again but its too cross so I just get a workout kiting around…angelo…one of the local pilots calls to see if I want to go fly deer creek but the wind is too strong by now…one of the best things about this beach spot is you know exactly when to leave and fly…and the direction…must go to the airport this eve to pick up my daughter who is coming with her mother to visit…don’t want to be late so make a move… meet them with no probs…the little Suzuki is performing well so far…they are v tired and crash as soon as we arrive back…

2008-08-11T14:35:00.000-07:00

Tues 5… ying and yang
Have to go shopping…all day sortin out nonsense ive got to have…haven’t even got bedsheets or cutlery yet…boo
The wind picks up and by 5pm I Fly sand mountain…hurray…more lovely smooth coastal soaring…you could almost go to sleep…apparently im only the second one to fly it…ooooohh…it’s a cool site right on the pacific coast highway (highway 1)near a place called point dume and although very unofficial no one official seems to care as long as you don’t wipe any tourists out… you can kite up the dune and get over the mountain from there…it’s a beautifull spot…followed by a standard evening on the beach in paradise…its hard being me…Nuff said

2008-08-11T14:34:00.000-07:00

Mon 4 …blink in the hood
Make another humugus brekky…will have to stop that…chill in the rv playing with the tv and sterio for a bit and decide it may be windy enough to kite up the dune and try to fly the ridge …its not quit strong enough and although I kite up it’s a real workout and I only manage a handful of beats before im back on the ground…boo….vic rings …hurray…he is coming over and we decide to go see a little suzuki samurai jeep I found online…its on 105th street in l.a…1st street is in the plush uptown part of the city and as the numbers get higher the territory gets more suspect… when we arrive its deep in the notorious south central district…this could get intresting…we first park up on 107th by mistake in one of americas most neglected neighbourhoods in a blue 2006 v8 corvette…its worth more than the houses…every last one has barred windows…the church is vandalised boarded up and closed down……there are no whites…unsurprisingly we have not gone unnoticed…people slow down on cycles on their way past…others begin to loiter close by…after 5 minutes of increasing tension we decide that discretion is most definitely the better part of valor and make a discreet exit before we are shot as d.e.a…we discover our mistake and go to 105th where we are greeted by altogether more sociable people fronted by a cheery chappie named blink…”blink and the deals done…blink and its gone etc”…who shows us first the Suzuki and then a yard with a half dozen more in various states of (dis)repair and after intense negotiations a deal is struck…lets hope it carries on doing what its supposed to…we stop at a garage for petrol close by but no longer with a brother in the car vics ghetto pass is revoked and he is almost immediately made to feel most unwelcome and makes steam…everyone ignores me completely…im black and im proud…I am also lost here but follow his parallel black rubber lines all the way back to his house… chill for a few…drive back to the beach...get lost…get back…the gate to the beach is locked…get stuck in the sand…curse…remember my sas training and let some air out of the tyres…it works!...i get loose and crash in the rv

2008-08-11T14:33:00.000-07:00

Sunday 3 …beachfront real estate
I hate shopping mostly but I was able to treat myself to a handsome first self catering brekky in the rv because of it…lovely…vic comes by…im still parked outside his house for now and hes already eaten…drive the rv to the beach…steering it is like helming a spanish galleon but im getting used to it…will fly deer creek again which is still a lot of fun cos as the wind direction changes different parts of the terrain work and its actually a technical place to be with lots to learn…you need to think to get the best of it…so im in trouble…vic has a golf date with a new chick so hes all exited and brings her to see how cool we are before they go…I land on the beach after having a great time thermalling for an hour or so well up over take off and around the canyon until I fall into one of the sinkholes that move with the wind direction and speed…like I say…you have to think…vic has shot off but as im packing traig arrives and takes me back up…nice…more of the same with beautiful conditions as the day wears on…find a spot to park the rv for the night and make Malibu beach my front yard…my back yard is a ridgeline peaking at around 600ft(200m) with a dune up the first 150ft…cool…cook dinner and watch the sunset with a beer…read and go to bed…I listen to the sound of the waves caressing the sandy beach and like a lovers hands in my hair they put me to sleep…you get the picture…it’s a bit shabby but ill manage…zzz

2008-08-11T14:31:00.000-07:00

Sat 2 …well almost
Need a blinkin car…have to make more effort…tinker in the rv and vic calls…we drink coffie and hang for an hour or so then go to fly deer creek …weekend today so a few of the local boys are there already…things are pretty flat when we arrive but the coastal winds come up later in the day here quite consistently…you have to run like a madman to get off but its thermic when you do already…small and tricky even with tight turns but are lots of fun… people are having mixed fortunes…its easy to get back up here tho with all the cars on hand…even in the week friendly beach types have been known to run you up to take off…there are assorted takeoffs at deer creek and we fly from 2 today from the 1300ft(400m)one…they aren’t much more than extended sleddies but as the day goes on the sea breeze picks up and the cliffs start to work…Barbie at vics again…send some emails and stuff…crash…

2008-08-02T23:15:00.001-07:00

Fr1 1… free at last
Brekky in subway…borrow the truckasorus…get waffle in the bank…look at car…go to fly …cool day with plenty of wind …good to get further up the coast so go for a shuftie …land on a different beach after an 40 min flight with a cool wingover session with vic up on the coastal cliffs…do 3 flights like this screemin into the beach downwind wing over wing with big 180s to land…loads of fun… watch the kitesurfers…vic has a go…he rocks…meet a hanglider pilot passing through on his way to some cool soundin place I forget but is on route so will get a mention later on…barbie chicken at vics…tasty…start testing bits in the rv…so far everything does just what they said it would …nice…watch t.v…technowrestle….crash

2008-08-02T23:05:00.000-07:00

Thurs 31..viva las vagas
Check out of my room when vic arrives and eat too big brekky…head for rv pickup at warp speed in the vet…we are early…of course…I think we arrived before we left…vic is the best…they give you a walk through for an hour or two and show you how it all works ... cool…more red tape…meet the delivery driver…nice old fellah and drive with him to get an out of state stamp from a notary 250 miles away…this is necessary to avoid california state sales tax and is the same in every state andpossible because we are leaving america…eventually… determined not to spend my first night in the r.v at a truck stop I arrive back at vics and crash by 2:30 am…hit switches…smile…read…crash

2008-08-02T23:04:00.000-07:00

Wed 30…big smile
Meet vic for an early brekky…we will drive around looking for a car in the vet today…it has enough power to run a small village and vic enjoys using it…car hunting is very uneventfull aside from the tyre shredding route between them…the r.v dealer calls to say its ready for collection…so that’s me in vegas tomorrow…a indelible grin spreads across my face…the red tape has taken ages…find no cars to buy as I need something really cheap and the original jalopy I wanted sold…keep lookin…boring day..eat steak dinner to cheer myself up…crash