I hadn’t meant to enter the competition at all.

This is how it happened. 

Two weeks ago I got a phone call off Anne, the club secretary; “Listen George, we’re desperate! We’re at the top of the league, this is the last competition for league points, and if we don’t field a full team we’ll be deducted points. All we’re asking is that you get to the hill that the comp is being held at, rig up, and bomb it down to the foot of the hill. All you need to do is get off the ground, and we can claim the full attendance points. You don’t have to worry about competing. Pete, Mike, Jim, Barney, and Judith should get more than enough points between them for us to win the league, no problem. Jesus, we don’t ask much of you do we? Think of all the lifts, encouragement, and help we’ve given you since you started flying!”


She had a point I suppose. The club had been a great source of friendship and of help. I’d still not be flying much without their support. It was just the way she made it obvious I was their person of last resort that irritated me. I bet they’d even asked one or two of the new students first.


I’ve never flown a comp, well, to be honest with you, I don’t really fly that much at all. I normally get out on the hill on most weekends when the weather is suitable for a pilot of my abilities, (rare!) and only then when I know a good crowd will be there. Mostly I hope Pete the local paragliding school instructor is going to be there. He’s a great chap, and always lends me a radio so he can talk to me when I’m flying. To be honest I think he only does this as it would be poor form if one of his ex-students were to muck up big time, in full view, when he was out instructing a new bunch.


Ok, you guessed didn’t you? I’m not a very good pilot. Oh don’t get me wrong, I love my little blips around the hill. But just floating about, cruising up and down the ridge, is as much as I want out of the sport. I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat, truth be told. Never flown cross –country, and even thermalling gives me collywobbles.


But I was still a bit stung by the way she talked to me, and was going to make an excuse in order to get out of it, when I heard my voice saying; “I’d love to, it would be only fair for me to help out.”


Strange? That was the last thing on mind.

So there I am, two weeks later, having signed in, (my hand was shaking as I did it, I felt such a fraud,) and got my competitor number from the marshal. I felt ever so proud as I stuck the number on my flying suit, that is until Barney, the club joker, pointed out I had put it on upside down. “It’ll be his niggle at me for the next few weeks,” I was willing to bet. I attended the team talk. Pete was the leader, and jolly good he seemed to be at it too. They discussed tactics, he told them what to look out for, and where the hazards were.  I paid as much attention as I could, I didn’t want to seem to be not bothered, but a lot of it went over my head.


The race was going to be on a straight to goal, fastest time counts, basis. A complicated system of points were awarded to team members who got to the goal, those who got there the quickest, and with points added for people who got close. I got my instructions; “Take off fly about, then get yourself into the landing paddock safely. If anyone asks, you were having trouble with your harness, and landed to check it was secure,” said Pete with a wink.  “Try not to land upside down,” added Barney, chuckling at his own wit. Half-wit would be more like it. So I stood back and watched, and waited, and thought; “too hell with Barney Bond.” It’s not like me to use so strong an expression, but he really gets my goat. You’d think I was clueless, to listen to him talk.




By this time all the competitive pilots were, good naturedly of course, jostling for a good launch position. Some had their canopies all laid out, some were just strolling about as if they had all the time in the world. I hadn’t even bothered unbagging my glider.


I had planned to not launch until after most people had got away, as that would mean less people about to witness my bombing out, and therefore it would be less risky for all concerned. I was feeling rather smug at the good sense of my planning, when Pete came over and said; “George, get off now while the wind’s still light, it’ll give you a perfect excuse for not flying out further, and we’ll use you as a wind dummy.”


“Wind dummy” indeed, I could get offended you know.


So I got myself rigged out, and got my glider to the front of the hill. A couple of the pilots who had already got a position gave me the eye, wondering what I was up to. I gave them a big grin; “Well someone’s got to be first off,” I said aloud, hoping they didn’t hear the trembling in my voice. 


 I got my glider overhead rather more sweetly than I normally do, I felt ever so proud. I turned, felt for the breeze as Pete had drilled into me, and ran like hell, also as Pete had drilled into me.


I got a lovely bit of lift just out from the front of the ridge, I think there’s a lip or bump or something there. Nice, a bit of hight gain. So, seeing as I had the air to myself, I swept down to the far end of the hill to just above the big craggy bit where the granite shows through. I got a bit more lift off that, so I flew back to the front of the take off, and was rewarded with yet another nice little bump up.


I beat back and fore for a few minutes, this was possibly the best flying I had done so far. I was sure that Pete would be ever so proud watching from down below. I was wondering why Pete wasn’t giving me instructions over the radio, as he had promised to. Then I realised that, in my rush to take off, I’d forgotten to put new batteries in it from the clubs battery charger.  It was as flat as a pancake. “Still,” I thought to myself, “if that’s the worse thing that happens today, I’m going to be on a winner.”


I looked over my shoulder and down to the main take-off area, to see if I could spot Pete, to give him a friendly wave to let him know I was alright. I got the fright of my life, everyone on the take off area was taking off!  Every pilot was jostling to get airborne, some were already on their way up to where I was. “Oh dear!” I thought, “I’ve never flown in a gaggle before”. I decided to let them all get off, and get up and away, then bomb out.


The air around me was full of gliders now, I was holding as still a position as I possibly could, in the hope that they’d all take pains to avoid me. Then from behind me came a yell. Pete!

“George, fer christs sake, push out from the hill and bomb out, you’re obstructing traffic up here.”


Hmmmph… Easy for him to say.

So making sure there was no one else in my immediate area, I jumped on the speed bar and went zooming forward. Gosh, that was exciting, I’ve not used my speed bar before. I got a fair way out from the hill. I was watching the wind sock in the paddock below, and planning my landing well in advance, just as Pete would have us do.


I flew over a large barn on the farm below, and boy did I shoot up in the air! The roof would have got hot in the sun and must have been generating a thermal, I believe I’m right in thinking that. So I did as I’d been instructed, trying to imagine Pete’s voice on the radio just like he’d talked me through thermalling last week…  “:Turn tighter George…. feel the thermal…..Expand your turns when you think you’re losing it…”


I know I was supposed to be landing, but this thermalling was feeling ever so exciting, and I was getting higher and higher.


Then on a turn I looked back towards the hill, and realised that everyone in the air was racing over to join me. “Oh, bother,” I thought “Pete won’t thank me for that.” So abandoning the thermal, I put my foot down on my speed bar, and swoooshed away.


I decided that as I had so much hight already, it would be stupid to waste it, and after all, this was my first cross-country flight. So I decided to head towards the houses in the vineyards over to the west. I thought I may be able to ask for a lift back to the take off point off the people who lived there, if I was lucky.


Unfortunately it wasn’t until I got right over the vineyards that I realised they weren’t exactly the best place to land. Landing in all those vines, and the wires they are strung on too, could be a disaster! Be like landing in a field full of cheese wire. What had I been thinking?


I was getting a bit desperate, and very low, by now, so I stuck my “Pete head“ on. This is a trick I’ve developed where I try to imagine in my head what Pete would be telling me if we were in contact, in that reassuring voice of his.  But for some reason all I got in my head was Barney laughing me and telling everyone who would listen about my; “great attempt to make my own wine,” in that really annoying voice of his.


Then it hit me! The houses had some big vats on the sides of them, for the wine making I believe, and all of the houses had tin roofs. “I may get another thermal off them,” I hoped desperately. I was also hoping they had a big enough lawn to land on if things got even more bad. Oh, and no big guard dogs either, I’ve had my fill of dealing with farm dogs since I’ve been paragliding, nasty things.


Well, my idea paid off, and I slowly gained hight above the houses. “Heck, I’m getting good at this lark,” I thought to myself happily, “I must thank Pete for his help and encouragement, and Anne for inviting me to participate.”


By now, as I was well clear of the rest of the field, so I decided to push on, and to try to get a really good distance under my belt for my first cross-country. “You never know,” I thought, “you may get the club award for most improved pilot, that would shut Barney Bond up!”




I pushed on, following a ridge, then got another thermal off, well I don’t know off what exactly, either the large car park, or the quarry below. I was a bit high to tell which was “generating it” by the time I “topped out”, but it was nice to be able to “talk the talk, and walk the walk” at last. I passed over what looked like a pub on the outskirts of a small town. I saw some vans and cars down below, and thought I recognised them. Then it hit me! Gosh, the pub was the target for the comp! There were no other gliders evident on the ground, so I must’ve raced here first. Holy moley, I’d won!!


As I flew towards the pub, I got caught up in another big thermal; “off the car park for definite this time” I said to myself, and smiled at how quick I’d got the hang of this lark. I tightened my turns, and got stuck into it.


Below me I could definitely see Pete and another of couple of members of our team waving. I thought they were jumping for joy, and waving their arms at me.  “Pete must be ever so proud of the way he’s taught me,” I thought, “I’ll really impress him here.”

So I turned and turned and turned, and got right to the top of the thermal, and gave a big push out for the last time. I flew straight ahead, pushing myself for all I was worth. I made several more kilometres past that pub, seven at least. I landed in a nice flat field, no cows in this one, not like the one I’d landed in the last time I’d flown away from the hill, messy landing that was. I waited a while, caught my breath and checked my watch. I’d been in the air for four and a half hours. Jeepers, that was more than the total airtime I’d got in the last four months!


After a while I phoned Pete for a lift using my mobile phone. I had worked out where I was, and had good directions ready to give him.

Well, I’d never heard THAT sort of language from him before!

Amongst all the effing and blinding, I got the drift that I had been required to land at the pub to score points, and that by flying past it, and not landing there at all, I hadn’t gained any. “None at all,” would be a polite way of putting it, it wasn’t the words Pete used though, “all points”, is the only bit of that three word expression I’m prepared to repeat.  Also, as I was the only one to get that far, but had not completed the task by landing, they had had to give the points to the pilots who had got the closest to the pub.


I don’t know if he was kidding when he said my “suicide run” over to the vineyard had nearly lost the local club the use of the sites in that area.

The trouble was you see that, unfortunately, none of our team had got very far. They were so busy watching me, and wondering what i was doing, and where I was going, they’d missed the best thermals. Well, that’s not my fault is it?


No points had been scored by any of them, not even Pete. Well second place in the league isn’t that bad, is it?


I  thought it was rather cruel of them not to give me a lift back to my car. If that farmer hadn’t happened along while I was out there hitching, I’d never have got back. And he asked me for money towards his diesel when I told him where I needed to get to.
 

I only hope Pete isn’t too cheesed off with me the next time we meet on the hill, I still need his advice.


And I’m dreading hearing what Barney will have to say about it all.

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