Paragliding Safety: Homeward Bound

Eleven thousand meters over the arctic circle, in a metal tube hurtling through the atmosphere at an appreciable fraction of the speed of sound.

I look back on my experiences over the past four weeks, a few epiphanies come to mind:

Seize every chance to learn.

Every pilot, novice to master, has something to share.

There is only one rule in the air - land safely.

EN/LTF testing is a non reproducible experiment in a non realistic environment.

Too much emphasis is placed on the rating of a wing as opposed to finding the right wing for a pilots experience, skill, and flying environment.

"I fly a 'B' wing because it's safe", are the words heralding an eventual tree ornament.

If we get to the point where we are relying on the passive safety of our wing (aka rating) - we have already failed in terms of judgment and skill. See 'eventual tree ornament' above.

We are loathe to blame the pilot, yet quick to blame the wing, the wind, the phase of the moon.

We don't take collapses in calm air over lakes.

The air does not appear in front of you, state it will pull your risers in three seconds, allow you to get ready, confirm you are ready, then do it.

Safety starts and ends with the puppet.

The first flights on a new wing should involve turning it inside out in a safe environment. If it scares us then, imagine what it will be like blowing out 100' from a cliff face at midday.

SIV is as much about learning what kind of pilot we are as what kind of wing we fly.

An SIV flight where nothing goes wrong offers only a limited learning opportunity. The best SIV flights are the ones that go off script. A flight that starts with the wing shouting 'F it, we'll do it live' will teach the most both about the wing and yourself.

Group SIV courses are great for the first three or four times, after that - individualized instruction is the way to go. By that point, you know what needs addressing.

Never give up. But know when it is time to go land.

Leave lift only when there is a clear, readily reachable landing option at all times during transition.

Leave lift only when there are at least two ways to climb out waiting on the other side.

It takes two to have a mid-air collision, but only one to avoid it.

All eggs in one basket (gliding to an isolated source of lift) should be an option of last resort and best saved for the final push to goal.

Boredom and fatigue are the primary causes for an XC flight to end. Being able to pre-order a beer via radio is a close third.

The Swiss are great civic planners, the Italians - not so much.

The Italians have a great sense of humor, the Swiss - not so much.

Annecy is a great place to go see.

Bassano is a great place to go fly.

Whoever said pimpin' ain't easy, didn't paraglide.

A blow out is natures way of saying, 'you are in the wrong place at the wrong time of day.'

Never, ever break the Golden Rule.

If you want to learn what the Golden Rule is and how not to break it, start by liking Austrian Arena's Facebook page.

Paragliding is just an excuse for people to get together on a hill to enjoy a view, and in a field to enjoy a beer.

Final Exam - Part Two

Creeping away from the cliffs lining the face of Panetone launch, I circle slow and wide. Looking for any tell tale of thermic activity, I continue moving cross wind and align myself with potential sources.

An intersection of flight path and releasing thermal.

The wing pitches back slightly and bites in.

Pause. The vario starts to beep.

The beeping continues. This one is large enough to turn in.

A carve is begun.

Opened and closed with each pass, the carve divides down the distance separating the core and myself.

The vario beeps grow in pitch and frequency.

Glance up.

The wisps of a cloud being born.

Salvation.

1300 meters.

Kelly and Olle are within an easy glide. I join up with them over the small ridge line east of Paderno. We spread out, trying to find an elusive climb that will enable us to continue to the second leg of the triangle.

Ten minutes later, the ridge line delivers, allowing Kelly and I to continue southward. Olle remains, trying to top up before joining us. It is during this part of the flight that I begin to take notice of the wings tendency to 'sniff'. One of the tips will pull back slightly and release, repeatedly. There is something in the air that is causing this reaction, though I have yet to identify how this relates to any nearby thermals. Likewise, I begin to work with the wing, rather than against - once the wing is in a carve, it will tend to pull towards stronger lift. Also, when the wing initially hits a core, it pulls back slightly, but quickly bites in. It is obvious it will take time to adjust to the style of flying the Delta 2 wants vs. my previous EN-B wings.

Gliding southward past Paderno, we pause over the same factory I landed beside the week previous. We are below 500 meters, the wind is picking up, and climbs are becoming disorganized. Every attempt to climb out is bound by yet another low inversion and becomes wasted trying to drive back into the wind.

I lose sight of Kelly while focusing intently on trying to work through the inversion. Patience (or lack there of) gets the better of me and I set down in the field. Packing up, I see Kelly low, yet making his way back to the hotel.

Post mortum of the flight reveals that this was one of the most challenging flights for Kelly's thermalling courses and would rank on par with a decent XC course route.

Oh and yes, Olle and I missed lunch...

Again.

Replay this flight in Doarama

Final Exam - Part One

A rare west wind.

Kelly has ambitions of a twenty-five kilometer FAI triangle.

Landing options abound within a single glide of the ridge until past Paderno. Our XC quartet are becoming accustomed with the rougher air over the ridge and have started demonstrating the ability to carve and coarsely map thermals. In essence, we are becoming semi-autonomous. Our trio is beginning to rely more on Kelly for route planning and marking climbs in more troublesome spots than feedback on technique (as opposed to where we were two weeks earlier).

That is not to say there is no feedback on technique, as there continues to be plenty of it. But each of us now knows what specifics we need to address on our own and just because the course is coming to a close does not mean the learning will as well. On this day, Kelly is planning to pull together the basics he has taught us and allow us to synergize the components into a proper XC flight under conditions more challenging than we have faced thus far.

On the hill, Jim and Tim are launched. Spacing them apart by 15 minutes gives Kelly time to guide each via radio. Based upon their rapidly improving performance, it is difficult to imagine their flight hours being so few and their background being exclusively coastal soaring.

With the clock closing in on noon, Kelly suggests to both of the newer pilots that they avoid the ridge as we approach the witching hour and directs them to continue practicing over the flats.

Magnus leads the quartet out, followed by Ollie, myself, then Kelly. Initially we were going to look for climbs over the mound to the left of launch, but the ridges to the right had lit up in the time since the departure of Tim/Jim for the flats. Now given several options, each of us could take a different climb and give our group the best chance of getting away - if one climb is lacking, a pilot can quickly leave it and join a better yielding climb found by a teammate. This is the paradox of paragliding, being highly individualized yet relying heavily on teamwork. This practice of pimping lead Olle and Magnus to share a single thermal while I begin to search more westward, towards a steep sided gulley.

Lift is readily available. Leaning in, carving, and mapping an ongoing thermal, it does not take long to lock in the core and drift back over LaCassette (the launch now infamous with our group due to a guide sheet description that included the words, 'Do not launch east. Danger of death'). At the top of LaCassette, a pair of sunbathers lie unfettered by such a dire prediction. Attention lies solely with the sun and the ballet of wings overhead and could not be bothered by Chicken Little-esque ramblings on a piece of paper.

Staying true to its word, the Witching Hour arrives and brings some bite to the air. A slow, yet continuous, exodus of pilots for the flats begins. By the time I decide I've had my fill, Olle and Kelly are already several kilometers downwind, passing north of Paderno. None too keen to apply speed bar under these conditions, I plod along at trim speed and stay just at the edge of the ridge's rough climbs.

I arrive just north of Paderno and face a crossroads, push out on the flats and risk sinking out OR try a climb up the 1500 meter rock faced ridge and receive another shellacking like I did the week before.

Flats it is.

The sink alarm starts to drone ... -2.5, -3.0, -3.5 meters a second. My flight is going to be all for naught if I can't find something soon.

Going Places - Part Three

Southward, applying the speed bar ever so cautiously. By the time I reach the pair of Kelly and Olle, I am two hundred meters below them and back under the inversion.

The factory complex below is generating a reasonable thermal, but not enough to push me through and up to them. My altitude log takes a sawtooth pattern as I climb and fall across a five meter span, while the wing is continually trying to reorient itself within the churning mass of trapped turbulent air.

The pair above decide to push back north, to try for better lift along the foothills. I remain, drifting westward, continually searching for a gap in my invisible ceiling that would allow an escape.

Further to the south and west I spot a town that may have what I need, a tall church tower. The large thermal mass of pavement and buildings surrounding this trigger could give just the rocket I need. A plethora of fields surround the town, allowing for multiple landing options if my gambit fails.

Crossing the river, and down through yet another inversion at 600 meters, I reach the town. The air mass turns violent, sending the wing and I in sharp climbs and drops. Just in time for...

"Mark, what's your status?"

Hands plenty occupied, the query goes unanswered.

Again, the query.

Again, unanswered.

The air becomes increasingly angered.

Relenting, I single hand the toggles and reply with location, altitude, and sportiness of the air.

A single reply,

"DON'T. GIVE. UP."

"Understood."

30 minutes pass.

Then the wing does something I have never seen before. It levels out and slides diagonally forward and right. At first I fight it, then recall comments from Kelly regarding the esoteric technique of following a thermal as it slides around under an inversion. I allow the wing to guide me out of the churn and into a climb.

Break through

...and fall back in.

Fatigue quickly sets in. I get word that Olle has landed. Picking a path that will follow a two lane highway westward, I drift with wind over the expanse of farmland.

Twenty minutes later.

I land, pack up and text coordinates for retrieve.

Another notch in the XC belt.

Going Places - Part Two

Pushing further and further out, both Kelly and I search for the first thermal that will allow us to climb out and begin the planned westward open distance run parallel to the ridge line.

In the midst of this initial hunt, I failed to realize that the distance between us was ever so gradually decreasing, until I was almost within 30 meters of Kelly. It is when he begins a right hand turn, in what I suspect is the beginnings of lift, that I notice we are too close and veer off aggressively to the right as well.

A chiding on the radio quickly follows. Flying in formation, hunting for lift is something I never did before this course, so my understanding of gaggle etiquette was somewhat lacking, to say the least. Mental note is made to follow up on proper positioning and distance under these circumstances.

My movement to avoid a conflict with Kelly drives me directly into the lift that he was moving towards. I lean in and progressively apply inside brake. As the wing begins to dive into the turn, a light amount of outside brake is applied to plane the wing out.

And so begins the thermal dance.

Working progressively into the core of the thermal, I climb up to join two other wings that had launched previously. Kelly is not far behind, climbing in a much more efficient and organized manner than I can manage at this point. Behind him is Olle, who has launched in the midst of the search by Kelly and I. Rounding out our XC quartet is Magnus.

Kelly quickly passes me in the climb while I am being hounded by a red Nova that can't seem to make neither heads nor tails of the thermal layout. On two occasions I manage to cut inside the Nova and climb five meters above, only to fall out on the other side. The fact that I am even attempting this is a very good sign, as it means Kelly's focus on efficiency in the climb are beginning to take root with my flying style.

I continue my climb towards a newly forming cloud when I hear mention from Kelly to Olle on the radio to look at continuing to the next ridge. I continue for another few turns, feeling the air go cold as I work through the inversion.

A few extra turns and I begin moving westward along the ridge. Something strikes me as odd that Kelly would continue in this direction as the conditions can only strengthen and become increasingly spicy on the ridge. Maybe he meant a different ridge, I wonder.

The radio chirps, "Mark, I am on you left, on your left."

A quick turn left, followed by

"Mark, I am on your right, on your right."

I can envision both Kelly and Olle right above me, having a good laugh at my expense. Then I spot them to the south, attempting to climb above a factory over Romano.

I begin my drive towards them...

Going Places - Part One

Tuesdays menu brings us another east wind day, so...

A Costalunga we go, we go...
A Costalunga we go.

Upon arrival it is quickly obvious that the aggregate thermic and meteo winds are not for the faint in heart nor the low in experience (for the folk back home, think mid-summer on the Mt.Woodside launch between 1:30 and 2:00 PM).

Kelly informs Tim and Jim that it is best that they sit this one out, the gusting conditions are very different from the laminar wind found at the coastal soaring sites that they are accustomed to.

A quick briefing from Kelly for Olle, Magnus, and I indicates Kelly will launch first and mark the first climb. We are expected to follow him out quickly, thermal up, and begin moving S/E - more or less with the wind, but also away from the ridge which is expected to bring rather sporty flying conditions as the day progresses.

As we finish setting up, two vans stop in the sliver of a parking lot above launch.

The Belgians.

Aside from the hotel patio at breakfast and dinner, we rarely run into this group. The only times I have seen them in the air have been in the early morning or just before sunset. I think it safe to assume that they are in the early stages of a Novice/EP/P-2 -esque course of instruction.

You can imagine my surprise when they showed up at this launch, at this time of day. Trebucheting beginners with the active flying skills of a brick off of Costalunga near midday. <insert Guinness 'Brilliant!'/> Paraglider manufactures have done quite a remarkable job technology wise in denying Darwin his due over the years and I start to wonder how quickly the first rung of the 'insurance' overdraft flow (passive safety) will be reached by this group.

Through all of this, Kelly has finished clipping in and is awaiting a lull in the gusts. Keeping my wing in check with a firm grip on the C risers, I alternate between watching him, the wind sock and the trees to my left (which are outside the launch 'bubble').

A lull.

Kelly launches, calmly and smoothly. There is little movement in his wing as he heads out, searching for the first thermal.

The lull continues.

Never look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.

I pull up, keeping reign on the C's in anticipation of a renewed gust.

The lull surprisingly continues.

I turn, pausing ever so briefly to ensure the wing is settled overhead, take a pair of steps, and lift off.

Taking up a position approximately seventy meters to the right and behind Kelly, the search for the first climb of the day begins...

Paragliding Safety: Fear Factor

Monday, the routine continues with one slight variation. The east wind from the day before is persisting and requires a relocation in terms of launches.

Which brings us to...

Costalunga.

This south east facing paragliding launch site here in Bassano is maybe five gliders wide and three gliders long with a steep grade, tall uncut grass, and framed at the bottom by thorned bushes and 10 meter tall trees.

What's there not to love about Costalunga?

Reality is, given a good wind, all I need is enough room to lay out and take two steps. That knowledge and confidence comes from experience. But experience gives the test first and the lesson afterwards.

Simply put, to the inexperienced, this site can be intimidating.

Costalunga is a test. One of many new pilots will face as they grow their experience base, reducing the need to fall though the overdraft flow of judgement->skill->luck->insurance. The test of the sort Costalunga provides has a. and b. answer options.

a. trust.
b. fear.

Do we trust our knowledge of wind interaction with terrain to chose the optimal layout location and orientation? Do we trust out knowledge of glider preparation to ensure the glider is laid out in such a manner that we have span wise tension on the leading edge and that the wing tips are arranged to ensure an even inflation? Do we trust our launch skills to the degree that we will bring glider up evenly, on heading, with surge check, and start an aggressive run. Do we trust our connection with the glider to the degree that we can sense something is off and have the ability to correct it or abort immediately?

If the answer to any of these is no, then fear begins to enter the equation. Fear, the insidious negator of skill, can quickly become a self fulfilling prophecy for a paraglider pilot.

Overcoming fear first requires identification. Is the fear rational or irrational. Irrational fear is a nervousness of the unknown masking our ability to accurately judge our skill level against the challenge standing  before us.

This fear can be quickly crushed by one simple question, "Why am I afraid."

With this question, we change the fear into a rational one by identifying short comings in our skill and go about correcting them. Or better yet, we negate the fear by realizing that our judgment and skill bases are up to the task, we simply hadn't synergized our toolset to face this particular type of challenge before.

Fear, fear is important. It allows us to find holes in our skill base and correct them. Filling these holes enables us to build trust both in ourselves and our equipment, so that when we face the test again, we can confidently chose a. and get on with having an amazing flight.

So when faced with the unknown and doubt begins to creep in, ask "Why am I afraid?".