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”.