Flights 15 and 16

Yeah, I’m a beginner. But, what an experience.


Flight 16 – Photo by my Mama

How do you describe joy? A feeling a great pleasure and happiness? That’s my dictionary entry, but it's not quite right. There’s something beyond the body with joy. When you’re high you’re not quite all body. There’s an experience that goes beyond mere happiness. I’m happy when I’m getting a massage, or having my 1st margarita. Joy is happiness for certain, but that’s just he beginning. My senses are enhanced and fully stimulated. I feel light. When I enjoy beauty it’s very similar.

Actually the closer I get to nailing this description the more embarrassing it gets. Perhaps that’s the same for every “real” personal experience. Paragliding is not a “high” per se. When I think of “being high” I think of being dumbed down a little by alcohol or some drug. There’s the euphoric feeling that you get after running for a half hour or so, or Alpine skiing for a week – that’s another high: the kind of high you only realize you have when you do something “normal”. But, this is having your cake and eating it too. You didn’t know you were high in Jackson Hole until you grab the strap back `in the subway. Then you feel it. It’s a beautiful memory. Paragliding is having that other-worldly awareness, but being fully in the moment. You’re in the air, but you’re grounded.

The feeling is not getting any weaker, that’s for sure.

Robin was my instructor today. Funny I’ve never mentioned this guy before. He’s a big dude and when you see him you want to smile. He looks like fun. He’s the main man if you want a tandem at Torrey. I’ve seen him give a hundred flights since I’ve been showing up. My wife loves him because when she went there to buy my harness they diss’ed Bush.

He teaches the way he flies. I’ve seen him scrape lift out of almost nothing, close to the ridge, tight quick turns. I was lucky enough to have his guidance at the lightest time of the day. At one point I thought I’d hit the thing when he was asking me to be a bit closer. I’d say my safe place is 30 feet from the ridge. I know I can get closer, it just doesn’t feel right yet. I’ve seen him tapping the ridge with his wing.

After taking it closer than I’ve ever been to the ridge a few times, perhaps 20 feet, I started sinking – I knew I was headed for the beach. At this point my idea of a perfect beach landing is “close as you can land to the trail.”

Did I mention my Mom was there? This was her first time seeing me paraglide. When I started heading out of sight she was alarmed. She asked Robin where I was. At first he didn’t know who she was talking about.. He said, “Up there somewhere.” Irritated she said, “No! He went down.” As cavalier as giving directions to the loo he said, “Oh him. He went to the beach.” I suppose my Mom could have used some more comfort. The thought that someone would be concerned about “going to the beach” was completely out of his range of thought.

When I got back I asked Robin for some advice. He said that I needed sharper turns, not to go out over the ocean as much.

If I’ve heard anything in learning paragliding it’s not to do anything drastic: don’t over react, don’t pull too hard on the brakes. The reason I’ve been reluctant to turn very hard is I was never sure how hard I could turn without causing a problem.

Second time there was a bit more air it went from a consistent 8 MPH to a little more than 10. It was perfect.

As I approached my first turn I shifted my weight early and then pulled the brakes smooth and harder than ever before. I could feel a downward acceleration initially as I started to pendulum out. That was new, that pendulum feeling. You’re about 30 feet under the wing which is controlling your movement. That’s something I’ve been getting used to in landing, but not up in the air.

Gabe was instructing me now. He said, “Good turn.” Right on! I felt that too.

2 or 3 turns later I was getting some great lift. I was way above the folks on the ridge below, so much so I didn’t need to give way along the ridge. Gabe was instructing half a dozen people. 1 by 1 he started lining them up for landing. “You’re next Kris.” I started approaching the south side for my landing. As I did there was a tandem on the ridge and someone way out there and I could not give way to him without going way over the ocean. I made a decision to go right between them. Gabe said, “Good choice”. Which surprise me a bit. I turned for my final approach and really felt that pendulum effect. Okay, now I’m addicted to that. These are not wingovers mind you, just good turns. It feels good to be in control of the wing 30 feet over my head, get whipped out like that, yet still be in complete control. Gabe guided me in for a button-hook landing. It was perfect.

If being good is keeping a beginner’s mind I want to remember today. It was wonderful. When I just arrived, kiting, I was reviewing all that I knew: mostly just relax. By that second landing I was walking on air, not literally, any more. I didn’t have time for any more flights. Got to get back home to the kids. If I could – when I was a younger man – I would have been up there until I couldn’t see any more. This is one of the most fully rewarding experiences of my life.

Monica Edwards

I've been doing more para-web-surfing than paragliding this week, but I've uncovered some gems. First of all there's the excellent graphic by Monica Edwards of the Orange County Register:

Click for full-size image

Also, I take back what I said about Outside Magazine. They actually give paragliding a lot of play. Once again though, you have to dig. Click here.

I found a map of local paragliding sites in San Diego:



I'm heading to Torrey this afternoon for some more experiences, hopefully more stories to share. The Santa Anas are making the weather warm, sunny and beautiful. However, the wind is far too cross for flying.

The Minorty View

I want to paraglide over snow, to take off and land on a snowboard. I picked up Outside, National Geographic Traveler and Condé Nast Traveler hoping to find some destinations for the winter. Nothing. Nice images of mountain sites, ridges in Croatia. Is there an LZ around there somewhere?

It’s tough being a minority in a consumer culture. None of the marketing is targeted towards you. We’re completely surrounded, invaded actually, by the sirens of the media and their financial backers: the advertising industry. We’re disenfranchised, marginalized, neglected, made to feel strange and worthless. Who are we anyway to want to see images of people like us in the major media?

Out of the mainstream, it’s frustrating to read magazines that are clearly targeted towards adventure travel and find no reference whatsoever to paragliding. The images are spectacular, especially at this time of year when ski travel advertising is extremely prominent. You see pictures of the Whistler, Sun Valley, the Grand Tetons of Jackson Hole, and the natural question you have is: is that ridge windward? Is there an LZ there?

Online is a different story: you dig your own tunnel that’s so rich and narrow that you might suppose there are hundreds of other pilots competing to beat you to the mountain. However, the mass media makes it very clear: paragliders are a minority relegated to the "extreme" sports category.

The reality is the mass media is really missing it. If you look at the average demographic of a paraglider, at least here at Torrey, his is a pocket the advertisers should be directing their funnels to in full measure: somewhat older (or scion of the wealthy), plenty of disposable income, a regular traveler with perhaps more than one frequent flier account. It’s strange. It’s such a rich media buy.

Reading the only 2 paragliding magazines I know of, Paraglider and Cross Country, either these guys don’t pursue the big buck accounts or the Four Seasons in Hawaii really doesn’t want paragliders to visit the big island. All the ads are for powered paragliding. I suppose the margins on those machines are high enough to justify an ad spend.

I’d like to say I’m insulted, but I’m not. I think I’m just discovering something in its infancy. When media buyers discover who I am and how cheaply they can get to me, they’ll be there.

The resources just aren’t there for traveling paragliders. If you google a locale and the word paragliding you’re left to your own to pick up the scraps and carve out a vacation for yourself. Perhaps ski resorts should be offering free tandem flights as part of their packages or there should be a column in travel magazines for people who use their bodies on vacation. That’s what I thought Outside was for.

My guess is that it will start online. Once someone hits the right combination it will take off. Google has a great video paragliding site. That’s a start. Now where exactly is everyone doing this? Where are the links to the nearest hotels, resorts, car rentals, plane tickets, etc?

Photos: Ozone Gallery 1

This is the first of a series of collections I'm putting together of photography, art, music and even poetry about paragliding.
Here's a "Best Of" page from the the Ozone Pilot's Gallery. I like to get a big fat page of photos when I go to an image site, not 1-by-1. Click here: Best of Ozone

First Flight: Gal Bar-or

Gal sent me his first flight story. Send me yours. Here's Gal's…

My first solo flight was very much like that day in France, I think it was 1987 or 88, when I ran up to the bungee jumping rig, thinking I was getting in line, but in fact I was first and every one else was just watching! Before I knew what was happening, I was on top of a 150' crane, with a French guy yelling "Go! Go!" In my ears...

Well, my first paragliding flights were like that - I met someone from a Santa Barbara outfit out at their training hill; he showed me how to get in a harness, and then how to build a wall. At that point, he helped me pull into a reverse launch, turn around, and then he pushed me towards the rapidly dropping edge... I remember being shocked at the paraglider lifting me off the ground, and before I knew what was happening, I was airborne, with the instructor yelling directions at me from the top of the hill... I got up around 100', and then did a running flare/landing at the bottom - boy I was hooked! I went ahead and did 8 more of the same, with both forward and reverse launches! By the time the day was done, I was exhausted, but the feeling of that first take-off never left my body.

Lesson 2 with Dave Jebb

My second lesson with Dave came only 2 days later. I learned a lot last time, mostly from the experience of being airborne and the final landing approach. Most injuries in paragliding occur in takeoff and landing. In fact, according to wikipedia: Ninety percent of all injuries occur in the first 10 flights and are, typically, to the lower leg. Once a pilot has achieved a full license (after 40 to 60 high-altitude flights) the injury rate drops significantly until 500 to 1000 flights have been completed. Then the injury rate spikes again and, typically, the injuries are very serious or fatal.

Okay, you can die. I don’t want to die before my time, but, more than anything I want to live while I'm alive. Most people I meet are driven by their fears: fear of loss, fear of inadequacy and fear of humiliation. They are the living dead, cowering in false humility but brave enough to flip you off if you pull into their lane.

Somehow I escaped that fate. Don’t get me wrong I have fears, but I’m not afraid of living my life to the fullest. Life is about growth. Every day our body dies, ages, replenishes the supplies slower than it used to. We all know that. But our soul grows, expands, encompasses. We can have more peace if that’s what we seek, more love, more joy.

Who is too old to have more peace, love and joy? Really. Obviously, as our body ages there is something inside that grows. I’m tuned into that. Anyone who’s truly alive is.

It’s subjective. I can’t share my experience of love with you. I can love you, but, to feel my love you have to have your own experience of love. Love gifted to the unloving may be wasted. The same with beauty and joy. We can mostly agree that a flower is beautiful, but, can you see the beauty I see?

Not the beauty we see with our eyes, the beauty we experience with our mind. Every day I seek more beauty in all my surroundings.

I like this picture from morephilosophy:

Can you see it? It’s simple, but there’s real beauty there: the contrast of a smooth worn basketball in a pile of cold jagged metal. Hard physical work mixed with play. I can almost smell the basketball, feel it as I dribble the old ball. If I were 9 or 10 that would be a find. I’d take it home, have my older brother fill it up with air – which alone would be an adventure – I’d try to get a game going. That ball is full of life, as I see it. What do you see? Look deeply.

What was you’re first thought? “That’s trash”? One man’s trash is another’s treasure, or does the one looking for trash always find it as the one looking for treasure likewise find his? What are you looking for? You will find it.

You don’t need to squint to see the beauty when you’re aloft in a paraglider. You’re overwhelmed.

Now that I’ve had 16 flights things are changing. I’m getting used to being in the air. On my first flight I simply saw raw energy. The whole landscape was alive and crystal clear. Now I’m making out things. I’m noticing the white tower with the strange green frame supporting it. Gabe says, “If you’re above the green land behind the RC, below land in front.” I’m looking deeper.

Dave is a martial artist. You can see it in the way he stands, the way he moves – in the way he teaches it’s unmistakable: Deep, full horse postures as he shows you how to inflate with wing. He’s balanced from 6-feet deep under the ground. He used to be an instructor to the San Diego Police. I think he taught Aikido.

Unlike Gabe he does get annoyed when you don’t do it right, throws his hands up in the air. That’s okay with me. I like his style. He can’t suppress his years of experience in the air or his sheer love of the sport. When talking about how rules and regulations have proliferated around the sport one time he said, “How can people take something so beautiful and twist it around.” It’s the way he intoned “so beautiful” that put all the meaning in those words. You can’t quite read it, but you may hear it in his podcasts. This is a man with a deep love for paragliding.

On my first launch I got a lot of turbulence from the wind wake of a tandem wing that passed by. For less than a second I had a slight asymmetric collapse. Amazing how these things work. I didn’t feel any altitude loss. By the time I looked up it just popped right back into place. Button hook landings 3 times that day, all from the north on the southerly wind.

Each time a bit better.

My last run took me to the beach. I know how to turn this thing now, or rather, I know what to expect. Gabe said it’s not the depth of the weight shift when you turn, it’s the speed. I’m starting to get a feel for that. As the wind died down I tried to get as close the the cliff as I ever had, still 10 to 20 feet away, but close. There really was not lift. I could feel that. On my last turn Dave said to find some soft sand. I tried to get as much glide out of the wing as possible to get closer to the trail. I landed on the soft sand – I prefer that – and then ran the wing out to the soft sand and to get it away from the ocean water. I’m a champ at landing on the beach now. No issues there.

On my way towards the trail I ran into a Belgian guy who was quite experienced. I watched him hugging the ridge as the wind died. I didn’t feel so bad about coming down. If this guy came down there just wasn’t enough wind. I introduced myself. His name was Rick. We didn’t say very much, mostly the word, “Beautiful”.

Lesson 1 with Dave Jebb

On my next visit to Torrey I had had a taste of soaring, as well as a sting in my ankle from my crash landing into the patio chairs. I wanted more than anything to just get it right. I didn’t care about numbers. I just wanted to practice what I knew.

Dave Jebb teaching on the mound.

One thing I’ve learned from stock trading is not to hurry. Actually, I learned it surfing. When there are no waves you can’t surf. Sounds simple right. You’d be surprised to see how many people try to surf trash, or a wave that isn’t theirs. A better attitude is, “I’ve got all the time in the world.” Let the wave come to you. When it comes do what you do, do what you’ve learned.

You might wonder how that works in equity and currency trading. It’s much the same. There are seasons for assets that move just like waves. When you chart them they actually look just like waves. In a bull market go long, in a bear market go short, range-bound trade the boundaries. Simple right? That fact took me almost 20 years to learn and now that you know it it may take you 10 years to practice. The point is when there’s nothing to do, do nothing. When there’s something to do, act without hesitation. No gain comes for forcing anything when you’re dealing with forces of nature.

When you have all the time in the world you can adopt a gentle attitude: you can tell when it’s time to go short, go long, or more importantly do nothing. A natural outcome of my “doing what I do” is that I make money – a disproportionate amount. If I “try” to do what I do, if I force it in the wrong conditions, I lose money.

In martial arts you have 2 kinds of fighters: the technician and the bull. I’m a bull. I can win a fight seemingly without a strike, though sheer willpower. The reality is that there are some fighters that are just as bullish but who have more technical skills. If I want to win against the best I need a balance: to be both bullish and technical.

Paragliding, as a skill, is about balance and finesse – Listening to the wing: not forcing or overreacting to anything. In fact, the skills you need to be a great paraglider are all those that I’m lacking – or seeking – in trading and Kung Fu. It’s a perfect way for me to find the balance I need to grow. "The way you do anything is the way you do everything", was the message from "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". I'm not sure truer words were ever written.

I’d been downloading Dave Jebb’s weekly show on World Talk Radio to my iPod for the past couple of days and getting used to hearing his voice guiding and sharing his experience. You can download them as podcasts on iTunes or directly from the Web. When I arrived at Torrey and saw him on the LZ I was thrilled. This is the true master of Torrey and I had full access to him for the day.

My first flight was easy, perfect launch off the ridge and smooth quick turn to the north. Lots of lift early in the day. Winter weather is coming in here in Southern California. The marine layer is heavier, it’s starting to rain. This was a day when you couldn’t tell if it was going to rain or if the marine layer was just heavy.

I’m starting to get used to soaring. At first I was just trying to get high enough to see my home in Del Mar, about a mile north from Torrey. In fact I can see it pretty easily when there’s lift. Today I focused on something else: How do you know when you’re getting lift?

For one thing you feel some pressure on your ass, but the visual markers seem more usable. I could see the distant horizon changing before the nearer objects. I was making note of where the shop was in reference to La Jolla.

Dave had me doing button hook landings all day. On my first approach I thought I had it nailed. I should have known something was wrong by the fact that Dave was calling in my ear, “You’re not listening to me!” Uhh, what did I do wrong. It turns out a lot.

On my approach to the LZ I was coming in right over the RC mound with all of it’s obstacles close below. Dave said that even though the conditions at Torrey are ideal we train as though we’re at a mountain site where you can drop 10 to 25 feet in a landing approach at a moment’s notice. There’s a bowl right in front of the RC mound that offers some pretty reliable lift as you approach the LZ. I guess somehow I felt that lift on prior landings and was starting to count on it. He offered some other approaches using visual markers.

I had 3 more flights were I tried to get it right. It got better, but the wind died. My last run was to the beach. When I got there an Indian tourist approached me and asked about the sport. I was so disappointed about landing on the beach that at first I didn’t give him any attention. I knew that wasn’t right. I could feel it, but at the time I really was pissed. Was I too far from the ledge? A lot of folks up there were not obeying right of way. When I turned away from the ridge to give way they’d start their turns and I had one pretty near collision. Was it they or I? It was hard to be an ambassador of the sport at that moment.

As I packed my wing I begain to calm down. How can’t you on Black’s Beach? It’s so beautiful: California raw, unspoiled. I regularly spot dolphins here. The seaweed on the beach is fresh and smells good enough to eat. There was no wind at all on the beach; the nudies there were in a state of bliss, as happy to see me as if ET had just landed. I took some cleansing breaths, put a little ocean water in my hair and headed for the ridge trail.

As luck was have it I ran into that tourist again. He was a scientist visiting San Diego with some biotech firm. Biotechnology is the real engine of growth here, not Qualcomm. Sorrento Valley, which is about a mile square, houses a little over $4 billion in venture and seed capital. That’s a lot, even by venture standards. I talked to him a bit about his skills in molecular biology and shared my picks for the winners in the valley. No big surprises really, ILMN, AMLN and others. It’s all here on my ClearStation watchlist.

We parted as friends and I believe he’ll take a tandem ride. I love meeting people at the heart. I’m glad he was open to a second chance. I’m starting to get used to this kind of encounter.

The Return to Torrey

So now I’ve got a whopping 6 flights under my belt, all sled rides. Not much to show for such raw enthusiasm and nearly 4 months of work. But things are quite different: I’ve got my own harness, my own wing, days of kiting experience and a strong determination to land on top.

The conditions at Torrey are such that on a good day you can get in 10 flights. I’ve seen it done. I was determined to start getting those flights in, padding out my flight log and finally getting a P1.

Gabe Jebb.

When I showed up Gabe was on the hill. Pretty familiar. He asked me to kite a bit. It was the usual 10-mph that day, but with gusts, strong gusts. I kited and got lift right in place more than once. I was used to this now though. I’m a martial artist and it’s a habit of mine when kiting to stand in a martial arts “horse” stance. This is a great position for kiting as if you feel some collapse you can sink a bit to fill the wing, move left or right with ease and with appropriate pull on the carabiners (ie risers).

A lot of folks were coming in with big ears due to the gusts. This wasn’t promising for my flight. To my surprise, and believe me, Gabe knows best, Gabe asked me to launch when ready.

I launched as usual and banked right, but to my rather extreme surprise this time I got lift. I could see the horizon descending for the first time. This was what I was looking for, but holy shit, I was getting up there! I took a few turns at Gabe’s command and then came in for a landing approach. Gabe guided me behind the RC platform and had me go far more right than I would have on my own, another turn to the left and a final approach. I nearly perfect landing.

I was thrilled. Gabe said, “Good job!” I said, “That was my first ridge landing.” He said, “I know.” That dude’s so understated. You’ve got to love him.

Finally, well above Torrey.

The next 2 landings were disasters.

I was so used to sled ride, into-the-wind landings that I couldn’t quite handle the button-hook landings that were required of the day. Second time in at about 20-feet over ground Gabe said to turn left into the wind. I flared on both brakes with the wind and landed literally on my ass. I’m not sure what I was thinking pulling my feet up. It was fun, but stupid.

No one would ever land on their ass if they jumped off of a small building. Why would you land on your ass when landing a paraglider? There is something that seems right about it, but the instant I was on the ground I knew I made a big mistake. I acknowledged it immediately with Gabe. I just got right up and tried again.

This time I made a shallow south approach. Again, instead of turning left, I turned right, right into the beach chairs for spectators. Gabe said, “Your other right.” I really twisted my ankle on this one. My first thought was maybe I should get some of those expensive boots. I’m still using my hiking boots.

Gabe said, “Don’t worry too much about turning right when I say left, just remember to turn into the wind.”

My next landing was shallow and from the south again. This time I made a long traverse against the back of the field. Easy turns. At the end I remembered what Gabe said and made a perfect landing. That was my last flight of the day. It was great to end on a good note. I wanted to do more, but the conditions were too challenging for a beginner.

I make a conscious effort to hear my intuition. Sometimes it tells me not to fly. This time it said, “That’s your last flight of the day.” I never argue with my intuition. Gabe was a bit surprised to see me packing to leave, but I said I’d be back soon.

Baja Thermal Clinic

I hadn’t landed on top of the ridge at Torrey before my friend Gal suggested I join him on a thermal clinic in Baja. I had a month-long interruption in my Torrey training due to a flood in my home. We lost the whole first floor: rugs, furniture. We had to rip out 2 feet of drywall. Unbelievable.

Anyway, I wanted to get back into my training and signing up was a commitment to do so. I showed up 3 or 4 times at Torrey before the clinic but for one reason or another I couldn’t fly. It was too cross, too windy or no wind at all. It happens even at the most consistent spot in the US. I asked if I had the skills to take advantage of the clinic. I had some doubts. All the instructors said to go, that I’d be fine.

The Mexican flag atop La Salina serves as a wind sock.

The destination for the clinic was only a 2 hour drive south from my home, a place called La Salina. My wife and I tucked the kids in bed and hopped in the SUV for the drive south.

Torrey holds an annual thermal clinic at a resort in La Salina called "Baja Seasons". We called it “The One Season”. It’s okay as low cost accommodations go, but hardly a luxury resort. It has a good restaurant and US$5 pitchers of Margaritas.

A view of the beach at Baja Seasons.

To date I had only used the rental equipment provided to students at Torrey. I had to buy my own equipment for this trip. At Torrey they let you demo all the equipment you like. If something works for you, you buy it. I had to make a snap decision in this case as there was no oppotuniry to fly beforehand.

My wife and I celebrated our 7th anniversary the weekend before the trip. For our copper anniversary she bought me a harness. (I suppose there's some copper in that thing.) It was the top-of-the-line Ki2Fly harness designed by Ki at Torrey. They assured here that I could exchange it if I liked.

She gave it to me in a funny way. I got home after sunset the night I was to leave for Baja. She said there were a few more bags she left in the car and would I go get them. I went outside, popped the hatch on the SUV and saw the harness. My wife, whom I love with all my heart, has a way of either completely resisting new interests of mine – fighting tooth and nail making it perfectly clear that it won’t work, or encouraging me. I looked at that harness that thought: “Oh good.” In fact, telling that story in Baja got a lot of, “You’ve got the best wife in the world!” responses. Yeah, I’ll take that.

The first morning of the clinics starts with breakfast and a lecture. At breakfast we all went around and said our names, rating and where we were from. I felt like a 3rd class citizen when it was my turn. “I’m not rated, so don’t let me slow you down.” I apparently was the only one who thought that was a big deal.

Jerome's morning lecture above La Salina.

Jerome from Expanding Knowledge delivered most of the lecture. Jerome is a Québécois transplant to Southern California. To hear him talk though you’d swear he was Swiss: factual, precise, enjoys the numbers and swears by his vario. This is a much different style from Gabe and Dave Jebb who express much more from experience and feel. The two styles matched really well. “This is going to be a great seminar”, I thought.

The LZ was a short drive from the resort. You hike up an 800-foot ridge from there. It’s a surprisingly short hike to the top. The morning weather was promising. The wind follows a 180˚ arc throughout the day in Southern California and into Baja. In the early morning it’s south, mid-day when it’s at it’s strongest it’s due west and as evening approaches it’s northwesterly. That morning was sunny and brisk. During the lecture the wind was blowing my notes around. I was thinking it would be too strong for me to fly.

The terrain in La Salina is chaparral, just as in Southern California, with much more cacti. There’s one plant that’s hard as a rock and shaped as a form of serrated knives. Dave recommended we stay as far away as possible from those plants on landing.

Faceplant into one of these and you're scrambled eggs.

However, when we arrived at the top of the ridge the wind had all but died. We continued talking and waiting at the top. Gabe thought it would be a good idea for me to do a sled ride as that was all I had in store for the day at my level.

I demoed an Independence Merlin DHV1 wing. The thing just went up like butter. I was so used to the heavily worn Advance and Paratech wings at Torrey I almost couldn’t believe how smooth the Merlin was. I didn’t know it could be that easy. Gabe said, “It wants to fly.” It did, so did I. Dave gave me some warnings earlier. He said, “This will be difficult. You’ve got 3 things going against you: New site, new harness and new wing. Take your time and listen to Gabe.” I can do that. Gabe’s voice is calm and soothing, never panicked or even urgent. It’s like the voice of my intuition. He never says, “Oh shit”, or “That’s wrong / stupid”. After making a mistake he just says, “OK, you’ve done that, now do this.” Perfect.

Here’s a video of the run.

I watched carefully as I passed closer to the serrated knife cacti. In fact, I judged the LZ perfectly and landed perhaps better than I ever had in Torrey.

I had 2 more runs that day as the more experienced pilots were waiting for wind. Sometimes it pays to be the newbie.

On day 2 the wind was even worse, but I got my sled rides in, one straight into the chaparral with the dreaded cacti. No problems. My constant thought airborne was, “I love this. Look at this. I’m here in this new terrain, already a sight to behold, but with the power to fly.” It is nothing less than joy.

Even when there’s no wind La Salina’s a winner. Some of the guys were able to glide all the way from the ridge crest to the margarita bar. That’s my goal for next year.

There's a lot to say about the people I met at that clinic. Paragliders have a bit of lone wolf in them, but you put them together and there's definitely some pack behavior. Torrey is run by a family. Dave the father and Gabe the son run the joint. Together with thier wife and girlfriend they create a warm atmostphere not only at Torrey but wherever they go. I have a lot more to say about that which I'll save for a dedicated post.

Second Solo Flight

I spent a lot of time on the ground kiting after that first solo flight. It occurred to me that being in the air is pretty easy. Being on the ground took some work and real understanding of the wing.

I showed up at Torrey pretty early on my third day. My friends were gone, went back to San Francisco. Being alone made me a bit more sensitive to all the issues I had gone through on my first 2 days. There would be no one to egg me on, no one to help back the wing, no one to share the thoughts and experiences with. No big deal. It was another beautiful day.

Torrey has a pretty consistent 10 MPH wind coming off of the ocean. The venturi at the ridge can boost that for your initial lift.

There was a new instructor that day too. Very cool guy, long hair. Didn’t talk very much. Reminded me quite a bit of the network administrator at my last company. After watching me kite for 5 minutes he said in his laconic way, “Want to fly today?” I said, “That’s what I came here for.” The truth was I could have just kited that whole day. I wasn’t feeling very much in control of the thing. I must have had enough thought to give this instructor some confidence.

I made my way to the ledge and launched. I turned toward the ridge without instruction. In fact, the instructor wasn’t saying a word. On my first flight Ki was almost always giving me some kind of input, which I was fighting to hear over the rush of my emotions. Now I was wondering, “Is the radio working?”

The view from Torrey is spectacular.

I had to remind myself to breathe. All I could hear was that beautiful silence again – but it wasn’t all silence. There was the sound of the ocean break, some wind. Little things. Nature is actually quite noisy. This was all natural sounds – no human issues filling the air with their garbage. 300 feet above the beach I thought, “I love this. Who wouldn’t love this, it’s amazing”.

I heard for a second time, “OK turn”, and went into my second turn. As I started to straighten out I heard, “Keep turning.” He wanted me closer to the ridge for more lift. As I approached the ridge it looked dangerous. My friend Gal said to me on the 1st day, “Of course it’s scary. It’s not natural for humans to fly.”

This was the first time I actually felt scared. I didn’t know how to steer this thing well enough to get any closer to that ridge, so I turned parallel to the ridge. One more turn and it was time for my landing approach.

I landed and started packing, but not before walking to the ocean and putting some water in my hair. “Is there any better way to enjoy California?”, I thought.

It’s frustrating that the communication is all one way on those radios. I was thinking if I could speak back I’d ask some questions. I’d tell him I wasn’t comfortable that close to the cliff.

When I got back up top I talked to the instructor a bit and told him my concerns. He said, “You’re the pilot. What you say goes. All I could have done is get you a little further down the beach, closer to the trail.” I thought perhaps he was trying to get me back up above the ridge for an LZ landing. He said no.

The first 3 or so flights at Torrey are sled rides, no matter what. It’s better to get your confidence up with some smooth beach landings. Makes sense. My next flight was another ride to the beach. I was really starting to get to know that ridge trail.

My First Solo flight

Tell me about your first solo flight. Click on "Comments" below. Here's my story:

My first solo flight was my first flight. I recommend anyone interested in paragliding take a tandem flight first to see what it’s all about, to get the experience and build some motivation to get through the training process. I didn’t need to have that tandem to know that I needed to fly, but I’m a bit different.

When my long-time friend Gal Bar-or discovered that I had moved to San Diego he came to visit right away telling me that I lived in the paragliding capital of the United States. He’s a pilot with his own plane and has been paragliding for years. When he came for his visit he told me to block off 3 days – no easy task – which I did.

Here's my buddy Gal – the guy who got me into this.

When we arrived at the Torrey Pines Gliderport I was ready to learn how to fly. I listened carefully as we went though the first day’s talking lesson. Then I got geared up and learned how to kite.

My first day was a wash. I muscled though everything: getting the wing in the air, getting balance, launch runs: I wish I had a videotape of that day. What an idiot I must have looked like.

Ki, resident instructor - a wing and harness designer and sport advocate from the beginning, gave some advice to all the newbies: “Don’t fight the wing, the wing will always win. Make small adjustments, finesse the wing as you would a woman.” Okay. Got it. This sport is about balance and finesse.

Day 2 was much better. I thought about Ki, his advice and my experience. I committed to listening more than talking, observing more than “making something happen”. Much better approach by the way.

Midway through the day the newbie group I was in started practicing some launches. Chad, a geologist whom I’d spoken with a few times and who now’s a good friend, took off midway down the LZ, and kept going. I suppose we hadn’t talked about flaring yet.

Chad went off the 330-foot ridge ridge at the Torrey Pines LZ to his and nearly everyone’s surprise. The instructors were very calm and cool about this. We’d already done a lot of kiting and Chad was doing well. They talked him though the sled ride to the nude beach down below. According to my radio, and the applause of the folks at the ledge, his flight was a success. Prognosis of the instructor: Everyone’s ready for their first sled ride.

Torrey Pines Gliderport is one of the most beautiful places on earth. It’s a place where the Pacific Ocean butts right up against a 330-foot cliff. The water is Southern California warm, teaming with dolphins and seals. Up above you have La Jolla, a gem of a town with some of the most expensive real estate in the world, the PGA-class Torrey Pines Golf Course and the University of California as San Diego. It’s sitting on some pretty valuable real estate for such a rogue activity.

I was aware I was on the edge of a cliff. I’ve had a second home here and have been visiting for over 10 years. I know the terrain. However, I was not prepared for what came next.

I knew how to inflate my wing. I could keep it overhead. I knew what the brakes did. I knew how to run in a launch, and I’d been lifted a few times. However, when I ran to the ledge for my first launch, for some reason, I had forgotten it was the edge of a cliff. I went off the edge with full commitment. Later Ki told me that was why he let me launch. He saw no fear in my eyes.

I looked down and saw the eroded rocks and dirt that make up the ridge. What a sight. Pure beauty. I saw the long ocean waves. Then I heard something that took me more than any other sense: silence.

I expected a lot. I expected adrenaline, to be scared and thrilled. I didn’t expect silence. I could hear the waves breaking on the beach, conversations, even the whack of a golf ball. Amazing.

My instructor walked me through the motions. I saw the golf course. It was a perfect Southern California day: full sun, fresh ocean air. As my instructor guided me through my first turn I thought to myself, “This thing doesn’t turn very quickly.” But., with my commitment to take my time, relax and trust the instructors I just waited through my 90˚ turn. I turned to the beach. I could see it approaching with dozens of nude onlookers. Interesting that I was a sight for them.

As the land approached I seemed to be moving so slowly, gently. I flared and was surprised to get lift. I held it and ran it down. I stopped and the wing fell over my head.

I stopped dead on the beach. What was that? It wasn’t anything like I expected. It wasn’t just a thrill. It was nothing like skydiving. I started collecting my wing. Another student who’d had a few sled rides came over and helped me pack. He told me what to do. There is a path a quarter mile or so away. We’ve got a walk to it, then a pretty gruesome walk up the hill.
As he helped and I packed up I started sorting out that feeling. What was it that I felt up there? Then a word hit me: joy. That’s pure joy. How often do you experience pure joy?

I hiked up the hill and shared that word with my group. There were no surprises. Everyone was pretty pumped. Now what do you do with all this? Learn to do it better I suppose. Learn to get lift, stay on above the ridge and land on the LZ I suppose.
You’re sort of in a bubble after an experience like that. Nothing seems to touch you. You’re reliving it, your looking at things differently in the moment and waiting for the time to do it again.

The trail back up to the top.

I picked up a copy of Paraglider magazine from the shop and took it home. It’s an oversized magazine packed with beautiful photography. As I leafed through the pages I got it: you travel. You do this all over the world in the most gorgeous places on earth. I can handle that. I can work my family into that. This works.

Purpose

This blog is about the joy and beauty of paragliding. It’s written as a flight log from my personal experience, but I encourage you to join in: Share the peak experiences of your life flying in the most wonderful places in the world, as I share mine. Let’s help each other get higher and expose one of the world’s best kept secrets: the joy and beauty of paragliding.

Paragliding is all about joy and beauty.

Paragliding is amazing. The experience of flying, without power, without the noise of superfluous apparatus, is as close as one can come to the waking experience of flying in a dream. Far from what most people think, paragliding is far more about joy than adrenaline.

Paragliding is beautiful. You do it in a beautiful environment. In nature – in alpine mountain peaks or tropical ocean ridges. You might have to hike a desert mountain with a 50-pound pack, breathing pristine air, discovering wildlife, rare flora or geology. You might see dolphins or whales as you ridge soar over the ocean, draw the attention of herds of elk or bison – or simply the people who look up in wonder from down below.

Paragliding demands that you reconnect with the forces of nature. As you learn the rules of air, climate, rain, fog, inertia and gravity you discover a unique freedom. This freedom has in impact on every other part of your life. It creates a natural acceptance and patience. It discourages overreacting. It demands that you shed your ego and live in the moment with the most powerful forces on earth.

Paragliding locales are dream destinations, the content of postcards. The sport of paragliding will take you to some of the most beautiful parts of the world. It’s an international sport of all languages and races.

In short, the culture of paragliding is about growth, joy and beauty. It is an experience and expression of your mind, body and soul. So why is it that if you search for paragliding on the Internet you rarely find someone expressing those ideas? It’s kind of like asking someone for a motorcycle story. 9 times out of 10 someone will tell you about a horrible accident for each single story about the joy and beauty of the experience. The most common search result is a highly technical account of wings, lessons and what went wrong.

This blog is about the common experience of when it goes right. It’s about the common experience of loving being in the air, the sights, the sounds, the insights: how paragliding enables your soul to grow and makes us all richer in the process.