Flights 21 – 25

I’d like to say that today was the best day of my life but that would somehow diminish the other best days of my life. Let’s just say paragliding feels that good.


A paraglider's view of Mythen, Central Switzerland

Jérôme Daoust from Expanding Knowledge was there this morning. He’s a great guy and I love his web site. I told him so. So much appreciation it seems goes unexpressed. I wanted to make sure he knew what a tremendous asset it is to Southern CA flying, flying everywhere really. I’m glad the site is bilingual, French and English, as so much of paragliding (or should I say parapente) is French. He pointed out that the “tips” page is translated to over a dozen languages. Very cool.

I kited for about an hour in light wind. It’s a challenge to keep the wing up in light wind. It tests your subtlety. That’s what I decided to work on. The wind was only about 5 mph, but it was consistent. Little moves, anything exaggerated would bring the wing down, usually in a forward collapse.

Then all of the sudden the wind picked up. It was still too light for me I thought, but I saw a hang glider take off. I figured if a hang glider could be out there than surely I could.

When I went up for my first flight I had almost forgotten how much experience I’ve already gained. When I turned north I got lift right away. I did a couple of short passes over the north ridge and expected Gabe to bring me in. He didn’t. In fact he said he was going to keep me out for another 10 minutes or so. I stayed up for over a half an hour.

When I came in I took a quick look at the green and white tower over the Torrey Pines golf course. I was above the green. I think the only reason that surprised me was that the wind just hasn’t been this good in a while. I came in far in the back to turn off my altitude. I over estimated a little bit. I touched down after my first turn. I felt like I was walking on air. I was so happy. What a perfect flight. What a perfect day. Flight 1 of the day and I was already ecstatic.

Many paraglider describe their feeling of flight as freedom. I don’t want to take anything away from that, but I have to admit that freedom is not the strongest feeling I get: joy is a better word for me. Freedom is something I feel on a warm summer morning driving a motorcycle without a helmet on a country road. Paragliding has too many restrictions to reach that feeling of pure freedom. My favorite place in the world for that motorcycle ride is the road between La Croix-Valmer and Ramatuelle on the St. Tropez penninsula. There are others, but riding the hills through the villas and vines on that road where the helmet law is not at all enforced is just about as good as it gets. I’m retiring in Gassin.

Flight 2 of the day followed soon there after. Getting lift today was effortless. People were doing wingovers, there were 4 or 5 vertical lanes in the lift band right on there ridge. No need to give right of way. At one point I swear I was 1000 feet over the ocean. I don’t have a vario. I suppose that’s the next big purchase. The market better be very good to me.

Second landing I took some long wide turns over the back of the LZ. I came in and landed so gently I could almost have been bare-footed.

The next 2 flights were more of the same, just joy, altitude and long rides. My 3rd flight lasted just a bit over 30 minutes.

There was a long delay before I could take my 5th flight of the day. It was getting windy, too windy. I believe the gusts were up to 20 mph. I kited, played with big ears, then started jumping. I was kind of fake launching getting 10 or 20 feet of air and coming back down, turning and braking, doing a lot of weird shit with the wing just for fun. It was a blast.

Words fail how I felt just then. I felt 10 years old, actually better. As a 10-year old I might dream of taking 30 foot steps, flying into the air, spinning and playing with the wind. Here I was doing it, a 46-year-old guy really playing like a kid!

Finally, it was time to launch again. I took off a bit too early: there was someone was in the window. Gabe said I had to turn left as it was “his window”. I knew I was in for trouble. I proceeded south. I’ve never been able to go far south in Torrey without ending up on the beach. Gabe kept saying he could get me back up if I was closer to the ridge, but I was as close to the ridge as I felt comfortable. As I sunk and accepted that I was going to the beach.

When I landed I was pissed. I quickly became determined not to let one small bad thing ruin an otherwise perfect day. It wasn’t easy. What a letdown. I really wanted to land on top and there was plenty of air. It’s hard to let air traffic control ruin your day. There was a ton of sand on my wing. I’d promised to be home by 5. I would never make it now.

By the time I got to the trail all my concerns seemed to fade. Someone had rebuilt the trail at the trailhead and for 5 minutes or so walking up the hill I thought I was on a different trail. I met that someone about half way up. He was a real down-home southern CA stoner dude. He was rebuilding one of the stairs with a huge sledge hammer and some wood. I stopped to talk to him a bit. He really loved the paragliders. He loved the view, the air, the waves. That guys was doing some hard manual labor without a care in the world, it seemed. What was so bad about going to the beach? Never, ever let a minor disappointment change you view. You miss everything from that point on if you let yourself go.

Up at the top I knocked the sand out of my wing. There was a lot of camaraderie going on up there. A long-time hang glider named Jeffery saw me land and advised against landing in the wind. I landed in the wind because I just wanted to get to the trail as soon as possible, but it does mean running your ass off. He said on a hang glider that would never work. It’s good practice. That makes sense. I’ll only land into the wind from now on. That practice may save me one day.

Flights 17 - 20

I got 4 flights in today, 3 to the beach. My legs are worn like rubber bands.



It’s the holidays and with my 2 little girls, in-laws coming to visit and usual demands to bring home the bacon I haven’t had any time to get out to paraglide. This was a rare day. I checked my charts, several positions had been closed out at profit locks (BTW: that's good). There were no new trades to make, no clear patterns forming, and it was only noon. I checked the weather report at Torrey which it said it was blowing 10-12. OK. Done working for the day.

First flight out the air was really good. I got some great height right away but I couldn’t hear Gabe. My radio battery was dying. Makes sense, it’s been nearly a month since I’ve flown. Who knows when I charged it last.

Second flight I lost some altitude in my turns that I was unable to recover. Actually that’s what was wrong all day. Gabe kept saying to wait for the lift and then turn. I waited but it was never there. I ended up going way south. The good thing about the south trip was when I landed in the north wind I was right at the trail head.

Third flight was way north. I kept thinking as I was coming down, should I turn and land with the wind to my back? I just didn’t want to do the long hike to the trail. I ran to the traIl head on the beach with my back pack, a good 15 minute jog. I wanted to get one more ride in even if it was a sled ride.

When I got back on top the conditions were great. It was about 4PM and the sun was just starting to descend on the Pacific. Gorgeous scenery. On the north rim there were some photographers and models doing a shoot in the “magic hour” sun. I am fairly certain I got in some of those shots. The shoot was for running gear.

There were a lot of folks up top waiting for the sun to set. There's a parking lot just north of the gliderport that attracts a lot of folks looking for some beauty, some time to breath. I noticed a couple with arms around each other in deep sadness. Were they breaking up? Had someone died? Who knows. I do know that I was part of the beauty they needed to get over it.

I had a long ride on my last one but just couldn’t get the lift I needed to land on top. As I descended I rode closer to the ridge than ever before. I’m starting to really understand when happens when I turn, where there is usually some lift and what to expect. At one point I approached a spire that comes up from the bottom of the ridge. There’s a fairly large space between it and the ridge, perhaps enough to fly though. I thought if I went between the ridge and the spire I could get more lift as I’d be closer to the ridge. I passed. I’m not good enough yet to make those calls.

This time I wanted to get as close to the trail as I could. When I was beyond the point of no return for getting lift I turned around and decided to land with the wind to my back. I came down fast and hard but ran my ass off and actually pulled it off, though without grace. Was it worth it? I can’t really say. I may do it again and I may get hurt. My wing landed in some crap on the beach that turned its virgin white cells a nasty brown. I guess we’re both evolving.

My last climb up the hill was no meditation. I was exhausted. Very rewarding though physically. I needed that. The sun set over the ocean as I made it to the top. Gorgeous reds and oranges supplied mostly by LA smog that drifts south this time of year. The air pollution in southern California is awful. I can’t believe people don’t make a bigger deal out of it.

Why write about it?

There are 2 reasons I think it’s important to write about paragliding.

1. It’s practical – You have to keep a flight log.

I keep a trading log. Without it it’s impossible to retain the countless lessons that I learn from day to day in the market. These are punishing lessons. Not many people show up to work and risk losing everything they own because they punched the clock.

Trading for a living is dangerous work and it must be done deliberately. The lessons are painful and should not be repeated. There is guidance available, but little that suits your particular situation. There are too many variables, too many techniques. After all, differing opinions are what make the markets themselves.



The same goes for paragliding, however, unlike with stock trading someone had the wisdom to require that everyone who becomes a pilot should keep a flight log. Odd how you can flush your life’s savings down the toilet with no training at all but you can’t kite a paraglider without taking notes.

Which profession would not benefit from keeping a log? What would happen if you collected your lessons, wisdom or just kept track of what you were feeling and experiencing during the high and low points of your career? Instead of repeating critical mistakes you would change, without anyone’s help – even without reviewing your notes. There is something about the deliberate process of writing that refines your point of view about a situation, personal or professional.

2. For spiritual growth: How often during your day do you focus on happiness?

The media does not focus on beauty and joy. Friends and family are too embarrassed to express the fulfillment of their deepest desires when they occur, as rarely as they do. When one sells a company gets a raise or has a huge financial windfall they don’t talk about it. They can’t share the dollar amount or talk about what anything costs once they start spending. We just don’t do that. We don’t share our intimate experiences. It’s not considered manly. When we do share we try to frame it in such a way that it tells a fairy tale story: we remove ourselves from the action, depersonalize it.

On a social level we’re trapped in the riptide of our consumer culture. We don’t recognize how few thoughts are truly our own. We borrow metaphors from the media, some TV show, something we read or something we heard once that we thought was smart or cool. Individuality itself is a marketing device and if you want to rebel you’d better be using the right brand or no one will recognize your rebellion.

Most of us are acting out the desires we established as teenagers. It’s like we put on a little yellow raincoat when we were 2, 3 or 4 and haven’t taken it off as we’re turning 20, 30 and 40. We would sound like fools if we paid attention. Instead we’re too preoccupied with hiding the fact that we’re wearing that coat that’s busting at the seams – that someone might notice.

Consumer culture discourages spontaneity in favor of acting impulsively. There’s a huge difference. The impulse action is a reflex, an involuntary reaction as a result of conditioning; mostly the monotonous drum beat of consumer culture to have more, more than you need to be happy. Living spontaneously means living in the moment: seeing what is truly in front of you, acting from your heart. It means acting from your center, acting from the small voice that consumer culture branded the “angel on your shoulder”. If you listen to that small voice you can adopt a gentler attitude, because you have all the time in the world. The devil’s voice is much sharper and louder.

Consumer culture requires a commitment to the belief that you are running out of time: you’ve got to do this or have that before you get too old. Worse: you’re old now so you can’t do this or that. When you face the reality of these beliefs you have to laugh.

You spend your youth aching to be grown up, your old age dying to be young. When we’re at work we wish we were playing, when we’re playing we’re worried about work. Who wrote this script? Not you, that’s for sure: it sucks!

Paragliding demands that you live in the moment, that you relax, that you adopt a gentle attitude. It’s speed training for reconnecting with your true nature.

To me, the very purpose of life is learning and growth. As we go through the unending cycles of life we must change – we must transform the circle into a spiral so that when we encounter the same situation again we are different, we do better.

I made my walk up from the beach yesterday a walking meditation. It started by just breathing as I climbed. It’s a steep hill. It takes some strength and balance with the pack on your back. As I focused more on my breath my worries subsided. I didn’t think so much about the bad trade or the money I needed. I felt myself in my body. I saw the light reflecting off hill for what it was, magnificent, pure energy. That’s when the thought occurred to me. Underneath all of our worries, issues, fears there is a source of peace and joy that will, if you will let it, overpower any pleasure or pain the world can offer. We have a habit of taking what’s close to us and we giving it meaning. But what’s real isn’t always close – you have to dig deep.

I need to make money of course, and provide for my family. I need to pay my taxes and come to a full stop at the stop sign, of course. Spiritual growth can become a drug like any other. If you don’t balance what you’ve learned in the physical and social world you didn’t learn any lesson at all – you just escaped for a while. Escapism too can be fine, if you know when to stop. It’s a balancing act.

Paragliding is about joy and beauty. It takes you to places that are beautiful and demands that you experience them directly – uniquely. It demands that you go deep and stay there.

No one can accurately describe his or her experience flying. To do so requires growth on the listener’s part. The listener of any paragliding story must get into the skin of the one sharing what happened. To the extent that that listener can see, touch, smell and hear beauty, they can get closer to the experience being shared – but only close. You can’t touch it.

What can be more important that knowing joy and beauty directly? What if, after you die, and you see the face of God unfiltered, you cower in fear because you didn’t train well enough to see beauty, truth and joy directly? You’ve wasted your life.

Every day we turn away from beauty when we should embrace it. We see the spontaneous love between a mother and child in the Starbucks line and we turn away either with no interest, or perhaps embarrassed because we think it’s too personal to watch. I watch my children acting without a script. What they offer is spontaneous love and joy. It’s all discovery. They shit their pants too and throw tantrums because I didn’t let them stick the head down the toilet, but even those can be seen as experiences of spontaneous discovery, if you can put down your anger for a moment – if you can have, or at least pretend to have, all the time in the world.

There’s a lot of beauty in paragliding. The locales are the most obvious. The shape of the wing, its lines, the way the wing interacts with the wind, the graceful movements of the wing in flight, the colors, the techniques and the technology.

I’m a technologist so to me good engineering is beautiful. Good software design works: Google Maps, iPod, Mac OS X for that matter. I like technology that feels good in your hands. There is solving the problem, and then there is the elegant solution. Anyone can create something complicated. It takes genius to create something simple.

What could be a more simple solution than the arc of a paraglider to the problem of man’s desire for flight? It’s a archetype for any technologist. It approaches perfection.

Watching a paraglider fly is like watching a ballet. There are no violent moves: all grace, all poise. When they come into land it’s like they’re floating. I suppose they are, but we just don’t expect it, even when we know what’s going on. We’re genetically programmed not to believe it.

You can see the waves come in when you surf. You know when it’s your wave. You know when there are no waves and you know when a wave is dangerous. When you paraglide you can’t see the waves of air, you can’t see the thermals or dust devils. It’s like surfing blindfolded. You might hear it coming or see a bird or other paraglider get lift, but you can’t see the wind itself.

You are in a situation where you need to respect the forces of nature: to find control within nature’s limits. Talk about an antidote to consumer culture. There can be no manhandling, you can’t force something to happen. You find the groove, the pulse, and you work with it. You get in the zone. That’s where it all happens.

I have a artist friend, a painter, who celebrates the limitations of the frame: the 4 walls of the prison that is his art. He says that only within these walls can he find freedom. Well that’s the truth in all of life. Only when you respect the limits of nature can you truly change the world. You become nature’s ally.

Finally, in the words of my spiritual teacher: we are here to experience life and feel the feelings. That comes first. Then we want to express ourselves. If we don’t express ourselves we can never get to the next step, understanding, learning, letting go. Fear is our ultimate spiritual enemy. I’d never claim to have conquered fear, but I know if I don’t express these feelings it’s like they never happened. I can’t become them or share them with you.