With wide flat circles I pondered about in the zero as the day faded away. In fact, I wasn't doing so well at staying in the zero. Thermals were still a mystery to me a year and a bit into my flying career but the increase in ground clearance as I drifted in the met wind gently down the first bit of glen etive was making for a very slow return to earth.
My left foot throbbed painfully (broken heel bone). My right wrist (sprained) was painful enough to make left hand circles my preference. However, the gentleness of the air allowed a welcome relaxation which washed away the recent stress of having to take off from a steep and awkward spot while only being able to hop. I allowed myself a small grin at having avoided a mountain rescue call out.
For an hour or more after launch I had played in the washing machine in front of creag dubh/glencoe launch unable to connect with the thermals that were feeding up the steep face and leaking away at a low angle towards the high peaks behind.
Glider after glider took off, hooked in and climbed out while I had to content myself with exploring the feel of both the rising and sinking cycles at the front of the spur and how my glider reacted to the junctions between the two.
The afternoon clouds built and spread and the day mellowed. Other gliders went down to land at the car park and eventually I was the only one left soaring the launch area. I decided to try a glide to the spur where Sron na Creise turns the corner into Glen Etive to see if I could find more meaningful lift. I was disappointed to find slightly less met wind even on this bigger and steeper face and soon I was tucked in close to the slope carving figure of eights and glancing enviously at other paragliders circling high above the snowy summits.
By now there was only one sun patch on the moor to windward but to my dismay it shrank as it approached. As it arrived there was a surge from the glider and I heeled it round to the right into a tight 360 turn convinced that this was my ticket out. Part way round the turn, the encouraging beeps from the vario had already dropped off and I had a fraction of a second of hesitation about my clearance from the mountain side.
“Am I too close? No, go for it”
A second or two later and I was fully committed but it was becoming horribly clear that something was wrong. This was no thermal – just a gust and as I dived in the sinky air after the gust I was now facing directly towards the mountain side with even less margin than before.
Time slowed down.
“Can I escape to the left? No, you will hit the cliff”
“Can I keep turning right? No! No! No! You will land going slightly downwind on a boulder field of fridge sized granite blocks.”
“Need another option - Fast!”
Directly ahead of me at the edge of the boulder field was a smooth granite slab three metres by five angled at perhaps forty five degrees to the vertical with heather all around.
“It going to be painful but you can survive”
Instinctively I shuffled my legs forward out of the harness as far as I could, bent them slightly and leaned my upper body back as far as I could and braced for the impact with feet together.
“Time the flare right”
“Flare hard!”
I hit the slab in the centre going directly downwind at 40 to 50 kph. The violence of the impact was huge. I somersaulted forward twice up the slab coming to rest in the heather. My nose was pressed into the trailing edge of the glider and my feet were caught up in the leading edge as if my wing was an outsize prayer mat.
Winded by my knees crashing into my chest, I remained crouched for several minutes. As my breathing returned to normal I gave thanks to the great aviator in the sky.
