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.
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