St Marcel -> Grenoble -> Bauges April 14th 2007
April 14th 2007 was a classic day for paragliding in the French Alps – many 100km flights were done this day (and other days that month which was exceptional). I didn't have my wing to hand but was kindly lent an Ozone mountain glider (peak?) by Irwyn (www.maison-du-moulin.co.uk). We started at a small, quiet but excellent site called St Marcel at the N end of the St Hilaire / Dent Crolles ridge. Early on conditions were marginal and stable low down... Al took off first and seemed to maintain height easily.... whereas I immediately lost 100m and had to fight like crazy to get back up...
Irwyn had loaned me his spare vario an then forgot to bring his own! He gallantly refused to take back his little Solario... and unfortunately sank too low at St Hilaire. Hey ho, time for lunch
Because i was flying with only mountain glider kit I didn't have a reserve..... which did make the heart beat faster for a few minutes.
It was an Aspen or Avax XC which got an aggressive asym collapse which he over controlled, almost dropped into stall, surged even more aggressively on exit and recovered but with 30% cravatte which rapidly tightened into nose over spiral (or something like that it happened fast). He threw only a few turns in and landed in one of the nasty looking ravines below.... I raised the alert by radio and heard later he was fine.
I caught up with Gareth on the far side of the transition where he was soaring the hill trying to find a thermal to get him up to make the next jump north but a strong valley breeze was coming NW down the Chambery valley and stripping the thermals. As I was having trouble not getting blown back which would have been a terrible end to a great day I went out and landed and shortly after Gareth followed.
Irwyn had loaned me his spare vario an then forgot to bring his own! He gallantly refused to take back his little Solario... and unfortunately sank too low at St Hilaire. Hey ho, time for lunch
Because i was flying with only mountain glider kit I didn't have a reserve..... which did make the heart beat faster for a few minutes.
It was an Aspen or Avax XC which got an aggressive asym collapse which he over controlled, almost dropped into stall, surged even more aggressively on exit and recovered but with 30% cravatte which rapidly tightened into nose over spiral (or something like that it happened fast). He threw only a few turns in and landed in one of the nasty looking ravines below.... I raised the alert by radio and heard later he was fine.
I caught up with Gareth on the far side of the transition where he was soaring the hill trying to find a thermal to get him up to make the next jump north but a strong valley breeze was coming NW down the Chambery valley and stripping the thermals. As I was having trouble not getting blown back which would have been a terrible end to a great day I went out and landed and shortly after Gareth followed.
Glencoe to Oban - May 13th 2006
First shocker of the day was that the coe chair was off... but when the sky looks good its never that hard to haul the pack up. Second shocker of the day was how mixed up and broken the thermals were. I half went in a few before giving up and going back to launch - I just didn't feel in tune.
Al B's photo of me in front of launch
Eventually I got myself over to the Buchaille and pimped off Brian S and Gordon M who were just below me but a strong inversion just over the top of the mountains was causing a lot of divergence and there were only poor climbs to be had and it was very hard to get close to the summit. Chris C climbed up past me working it better and joined stewart d to chase bob down towards the aonach eagach. I watched them go but it seemed very sinky and after some rough top up climbs off the little buchaille i headed down glen etive. About here i found one of the straps on my harness was 4" slacker than it should be and my feeling of discomfort with the handling of the wing and the rough air suddenly went away!
Having spent about an hour on one hill with divergent flow causing poor lift on the windward face I then did exactly the same on the big lump on the S side of Etive about 5 k down the glen. Giving up on my down-soaring i was suddenly behind a spur and committed to rounding it on the S side via a hanging valley that joined up with Starav outliers.
Clearing a small col by 5m I worked a zero in a totally shaded coire until i had enough height to run to the huge vertical wall facing the met wind. But met wind seemed sheltered her7e and dulled down by the shadows and there was nothing. Soon there was nothing for it but to run for a landing NW back to the main Etive valley where i emerged only a 100m or so above sea level.
Al B's shot of glen etive. He was a lot higher than me - I went down the side valley on the left well below hill height
Sometimes you make up the reason for the existence of a thermal more in hope than reasonable expectation but for once this time it was spot on. A 5k or so drift of cold air helped me out of my cold shady corrie and led me down over the warm sunny main valley floor and suddenly I had beeps. Fifteen minutes of peristence later and I was above the Etive slabs / Ben Trilleachan at 5500 feet feeling a whole lot better about the day.
From here I had straight forward clouds to push for down the N shore of Loch Etive and could see the sea breeze front ahead. It was fun to play with when i got there with great views out over Mull. I thought about trying to return to the coe but wanted to play more with the convergence at the sea breeze front. It looked very weak however with a wavy line stretching to the south and only occaissional wispy clouds with big gaps. Looking down i saw that the windmills at the Taynuilt wind farm were still facing W to the sea but most of them had stopped (means the wind is <5 m/s) so the sea breeze was definitely weak as well.
david t's shot of the sea breeze front, oban and mull behind. I landed just out of shot to the left
For the next hour I went into survival mode eventually quitting on landing right in the middle of roadless moors and managing a glide to a still rather remote landing in scammadale just past oban. By being nice to the kids and rather posh woman who came out to meet me i got a lift 5km down to the road and pretty soon was eating fish and chips on the harbour wall in Oban
Al B's photo of me in front of launch
Eventually I got myself over to the Buchaille and pimped off Brian S and Gordon M who were just below me but a strong inversion just over the top of the mountains was causing a lot of divergence and there were only poor climbs to be had and it was very hard to get close to the summit. Chris C climbed up past me working it better and joined stewart d to chase bob down towards the aonach eagach. I watched them go but it seemed very sinky and after some rough top up climbs off the little buchaille i headed down glen etive. About here i found one of the straps on my harness was 4" slacker than it should be and my feeling of discomfort with the handling of the wing and the rough air suddenly went away!
Having spent about an hour on one hill with divergent flow causing poor lift on the windward face I then did exactly the same on the big lump on the S side of Etive about 5 k down the glen. Giving up on my down-soaring i was suddenly behind a spur and committed to rounding it on the S side via a hanging valley that joined up with Starav outliers.
Clearing a small col by 5m I worked a zero in a totally shaded coire until i had enough height to run to the huge vertical wall facing the met wind. But met wind seemed sheltered her7e and dulled down by the shadows and there was nothing. Soon there was nothing for it but to run for a landing NW back to the main Etive valley where i emerged only a 100m or so above sea level.
Al B's shot of glen etive. He was a lot higher than me - I went down the side valley on the left well below hill height
Sometimes you make up the reason for the existence of a thermal more in hope than reasonable expectation but for once this time it was spot on. A 5k or so drift of cold air helped me out of my cold shady corrie and led me down over the warm sunny main valley floor and suddenly I had beeps. Fifteen minutes of peristence later and I was above the Etive slabs / Ben Trilleachan at 5500 feet feeling a whole lot better about the day.
From here I had straight forward clouds to push for down the N shore of Loch Etive and could see the sea breeze front ahead. It was fun to play with when i got there with great views out over Mull. I thought about trying to return to the coe but wanted to play more with the convergence at the sea breeze front. It looked very weak however with a wavy line stretching to the south and only occaissional wispy clouds with big gaps. Looking down i saw that the windmills at the Taynuilt wind farm were still facing W to the sea but most of them had stopped (means the wind is <5 m/s) so the sea breeze was definitely weak as well.
david t's shot of the sea breeze front, oban and mull behind. I landed just out of shot to the left
For the next hour I went into survival mode eventually quitting on landing right in the middle of roadless moors and managing a glide to a still rather remote landing in scammadale just past oban. By being nice to the kids and rather posh woman who came out to meet me i got a lift 5km down to the road and pretty soon was eating fish and chips on the harbour wall in Oban
Night flight
The friendly bustle of the restaurant fades into the background as I sit, head down slightly, considering the proposition put to me. Am I fit to do this....two beers after flying but hours ago..... a glass of wine quaffed swiftly in the last few minutes... but how do you feel? I glance up with a grin at Manu standing feverish with impatience at the door, throw down some money to cover my abandoned meal order and deflect the banter of the group as I grab some bread from the table.
Seconds after picking up some wings from the chalet lobby there are three of us tearing up the mountain, Manu four wheel drifting the big 4 x 4 through the curves up to La Clusaz with an “oohhhh sorry for that” each time he loses the back end . Adrenaline levels peak and show no sign of abating as we leave tarmac for rough track. Laurent looks round to me with a little smile “you are not a true Savoyarde flyer unless you have done a night flight!”
We kill the lights and step out into the calm of soft, sweet, mountain air. The night is dark. There is a half moon around but hidden completely behind a solid bank of cloud; the pattern of yellow twinkling lights of the village 700m below will be our reference. The down slope night breeze is blowing hard downhill at 10 or 15 kph but this doesn't deter the other two as we work our way round, one head torch between three, to the downhill side of the big ski station building which will provide the sheltered air for us to get our wings above our heads.
Merde! Merde! Merde! Laurent and I explode in fits of giggles as Manu goes over on the steep grassy slope. The cows also like the lee of the ski station at night and Manu is now covered in cow shit. I have never been to this take off and am fortunate to find a clean patch to lay out my wing between the cow pats, leading edge hard up against the building. Manu is not so lucky and tomorrow the owner of his “borrowed” wing will exclaim at the orange, white and now brown colour scheme. “Do not fly eento ze pole in ze middle of ze piste”, are my only instructions and Laurent is off wearing the head torch on the back of his head so we can see where he is. “No way I am going off last”, I decide and run madly into the inky black.
Whoops ring out as the two of us get off smoothly and move slightly right to avoid where the piste towers may be. The air feels gentle but full of texture and I even put in one 360 in a gentle bit of lift as we float out towards the village. Are we really flying? It feels surreal. Then Laurent lets out a long, mournful howl and all the dogs in the valley below bark their objection to these new wolves coming down from the mountains. It is over too soon.
After we get off, Manu packs up and drives down – he needs his car early next morning. He admits over a celebratory pression with a smirk that he was trying to intimidate me on the way up into copping out and being the driver. But his envy at missing out is balanced by his pride at having introduced me to to such an experience. Merci bien mes amis!
Seconds after picking up some wings from the chalet lobby there are three of us tearing up the mountain, Manu four wheel drifting the big 4 x 4 through the curves up to La Clusaz with an “oohhhh sorry for that” each time he loses the back end . Adrenaline levels peak and show no sign of abating as we leave tarmac for rough track. Laurent looks round to me with a little smile “you are not a true Savoyarde flyer unless you have done a night flight!”
We kill the lights and step out into the calm of soft, sweet, mountain air. The night is dark. There is a half moon around but hidden completely behind a solid bank of cloud; the pattern of yellow twinkling lights of the village 700m below will be our reference. The down slope night breeze is blowing hard downhill at 10 or 15 kph but this doesn't deter the other two as we work our way round, one head torch between three, to the downhill side of the big ski station building which will provide the sheltered air for us to get our wings above our heads.
Merde! Merde! Merde! Laurent and I explode in fits of giggles as Manu goes over on the steep grassy slope. The cows also like the lee of the ski station at night and Manu is now covered in cow shit. I have never been to this take off and am fortunate to find a clean patch to lay out my wing between the cow pats, leading edge hard up against the building. Manu is not so lucky and tomorrow the owner of his “borrowed” wing will exclaim at the orange, white and now brown colour scheme. “Do not fly eento ze pole in ze middle of ze piste”, are my only instructions and Laurent is off wearing the head torch on the back of his head so we can see where he is. “No way I am going off last”, I decide and run madly into the inky black.
Whoops ring out as the two of us get off smoothly and move slightly right to avoid where the piste towers may be. The air feels gentle but full of texture and I even put in one 360 in a gentle bit of lift as we float out towards the village. Are we really flying? It feels surreal. Then Laurent lets out a long, mournful howl and all the dogs in the valley below bark their objection to these new wolves coming down from the mountains. It is over too soon.
After we get off, Manu packs up and drives down – he needs his car early next morning. He admits over a celebratory pression with a smirk that he was trying to intimidate me on the way up into copping out and being the driver. But his envy at missing out is balanced by his pride at having introduced me to to such an experience. Merci bien mes amis!
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