Canadian Nationals Day 6

Task 5 was another race up and down the valley, 55.5km with goal to the north. Today was the most unstable day we've had all week and the forecast said possible thunderstorms late in the day so the task was kept short with an early landing time. We had more wind today than any other day and some of the glides away from launch were very slow and very sinky. There are some reliable thermal triggers just in front of launch which are two round bumps on the ridge line below - affectionately known by the locals as something like the Two Individual Thermal Starters, or T.I.T.S. for short. If we are to be anatomically correct and you imagine Lady Seven lying on her back with her nose being the launch and feet out in the valley, I was thermalling high above her right ear and at one point had enough sink and headwind that my glide angle was aiming me somewhere around her shoulder blade.

The day didn't strike me as being very flying friendly. I grabbed the start and flew back towards the second turnpoint but landed without attempting it, after task 2 I was out of the contest so I see no point in pushing the envelope any further than necessary. A gust front moved through goal and most who made it flew back to the south to land in what was reported as very strong headwind and lift up to 12m/s. Days results:

1 - Will Gadd, CAN
5 - Gav Zahner
13 - Heike Hamann
31 - James Thompson
41 - Moi



Today has set up a very interesting day for tomorrow if we can get a task. Gav beat Keith Macullough into goal today and is still in 4th place only 30 points behind Keith. Heike is 15th overall and chasing Nicole McLearn but needs 300 points to catch her tomorrow. James is 14th overall. The points also compressed between Jamie and Matt in first and second place, should be a fun day!

Canadian Nationals Day 5

Task 4

Well, if you’re still reading after yesterdays post, you’re either a glutton for punishment or you’re my family and wondering why I haven’t called. I got back after midnight last night – the almost 1 to 1 flying/retrieve ratio is something I’ll try to avoid from now on ( 5 hours flying, 4.5 hours retrieving yesterday…) It was interesting enough though, I got a ride with a guy named Helmut (long time local originally Austrian) who spent the last 13 years coaching the Australian alpine ski team – he’s been around since the days of Zali Stegl, coached Alyssa Camplin and until 3 months ago was working with Australia’s next medal hope (Johnny someone?) who he says is an absolute natural on the snow but is a bit injury prone. A really friendly guy, he was the only one to stop, right on dark after I’d been walking down the highway for 2 hours waving a $20 bill at all but empty passing cars. I can safely say that petrol is still way, way too cheap. But walking along the road was a bit nostaligic – the Red Bull X-Alps is on again right now and I spared a thought for the guys out there suffering. Actually they’re having the time of their lives, they just don’t know it right now ;-) Have a look at the site and send a message to Lloyd who is competing for Australia this year, he’s doing great, currently in 18^th place and over halfway to Monaco. Go Lloyd you man machine!

Today’s task was much shorter and kept us closer to Golden which everyone was thankful for. A 55km race first to the south, back north past launch and return south to a westerly waypoint and goal at the HQ. The day was on and we hit 3300m just before the start. Having monumentally screwed up the second task I was in no position to challenge anyone so I thought I would take the opportunity to practice some of the things that I don’t do so well in, one of which is flying fast. Gavin and I were first out of the start gate gliding right next to each other, it was on. We took a couple of turns in lift that wasn’t worth wasting time in (or so I thought) before gliding to the next mountain to the south. I took a line about 100m west of where Gavin was and that was the difference between him getting up on the main ridge and me scratching the cliffs out in front. The rest of the field had topped up before leaving Mount Seven and flew past quite soon after (nice and high) while I was low and now groveling. In short I was really happy with my flight at the end of the day – firstly I learnt not to be too greedy about speed and then I spent an hour and a half scratching around including a save from 100m off the valley floor, climbed back to 3000m, blasted along the ridge tops and landed just as the day was shutting down 1k short of the northerly turn-point.

Gav played follow the white rabbit (this alternates between Keith and Will who both fly white boomerangs – and take you places you normally wouldn’t go…) and came in 5^th. James and Heike were both in goal. Gav is 4^th overall, a few hundred points behind Keith, and flying incredibly well. You can all expect the boy to do very well back home this summer, no pressure Gav ;-) Heike is flying really consistently and working hard to try and catch Nicole McLearn of Canada. Days results:

1 – Matt Beechinoor – 1:54:36
5 – Gav Zahner – 2:09:39
16 – James Thompson
26 – Heike Hamann
Plumbing the depths - Me

Canadian Nationals Day 4

Task 3

An American person asked me a few weeks ago if anyone in Australia other than Steve Irwin actually used the word ‘crikey’. I said that I didn’t but there were definitely people who’d never been on TV that did. This occurred to me while I was puzzling over how to describe today’s flying conditions, and the only single word I could come up with that generally did the job was: Crikey! Read on if you dare…

Competition organisers always want to set a long task when they can, and today was that day. We had a 109km race to the south with goal at Invermere. All the Aussies were in goal and a total of 33 pilots flew the distance and another 5 went over 100km. In a field of 65 that’s fairly impressive. Results were:

1 – Marty Devietti, USA – 3:52:05
7 – James Thompson - 4:05:01
8 – Gav Zahner
28 – Heike Hamann
31 – Me

Looking south towards Invermere, about 50Km from goal.

What was more impressive about having 33 pilots in goal on a relatively slow, 109km task is that so many survived the psychological beating that the day handed out. My flight today was about 5.5hours, I’ve had several flights longer than this and all are tiring but today after 2 hours I was as mentally exhausted as I’ve ever been in flight. The ridges here are big, so big that you don’t need to be on top of them to fly a very long way, Will keeps telling us this – fly the front, it works – he knows better than anyone and he’s absolutely right. The drawback is that flying the front of the ridge seems to be the paragliding equivalent of going 10 rounds with Mike Tyson – except that you get your face smashed in the first round and then Mike spends the next 9 rounds shadow boxing you so you don’t know when or if that knockout blow is coming. Seriously, I wish I was exaggerating here. I’ve flown a lot of places now and absolutely none are even close to the commitment required to fly here. It’s not exactly difficult flying you understand, every single spur you fly over will have lift on it somewhere so you shouldn’t really sink out (most of the time) but the hard part is dealing with the mind-job you get handed every single time you fly into a thermal. It goes something like this:

You’re gliding along the face of a 2500m ridge and you approach a spur running up to a peak. You feel the usual turbulence associated with impending lift, then you almost instantly hit a peak of 5m/s. Your glider pitches behind you and you have that hands-up-and-wait moment, you catch the massive surge then just as quickly you are doing zero or less. You fly for a couple seconds, trying to gather your wits when your glider spontaneously shoots out to the horizon away from the ridge for no apparent reason. You mentally scan your underpants for fallout as you swing under the glider and somehow fly into a solid core where given all you’ve learnt in the last 15 seconds there should only be sink. The climb seems good, solid 4-5 up so you fly straight and consolidate in it for 3 or 4 seconds, the lift peaks so you turn a sharp180 degrees to the right, and you are in still air. No problem you think, it didn’t feel like it but the centre of lift must be to the left, so you continue the turn through 360, find the thermal again, consolidate in it, turn left, and you are doing 3m/s down. Your glider goes behind you to what feels like the horizon but the vario doesn’t make a sound. You check your undies again and prepare to be smacked out of the sky. Nothing happens. You keep turning, out of sheer terror now and repeat this pitching, rolling aerial rodeo ride and the end result is a series of eclectic 360 degree turns about as round as a kidney-dish that get you an average of 1-2m/s (most of the time averaging up, though occasionally it’s down and occasionally that’s better than the alternative). Every now and then you put the wingtip on the horizon, deliberately rather than by act of god and you turn the 5/ms sliver of lift into a 2m/s average. This is bliss when you can manage it. After 10 minutes of the above, you arrive somewhere near or just above ridge height and you head on a glide wondering what the hell just happened to you and exactly where your mummy is right now. With many sadistic variations on the above theme, you repeat this every time you hit lift for the next 5 hours.

The flying here is truly awesome – and I mean that in the oxford dictionary sense not the bastardized skateboarder sense. It took me almost 2 hours to fly the first 30km and my nerves were destroyed by that point. I somehow managed to get the shits (literally, sorry) a couple hours before the task started so I launched late and didn’t leave the start gate until half an hour after the start time. Combined with the first 2 hour struggle it was looking marginal that I would make goal by the 8pm close time but there just seemed to be no way to make up time while staying in the air AND not having a nervous breakdown. With 45 minutes until goal closed I was 25km out at 3400m, my GPS was telling me I needed a 9 to 1 glide and my time to goal was 43 minutes. Nothing left to do but glide – and pray. I made 2 turns in one strong climb and flew through what little else there was. I got to goal 6 minutes before close with about 50m of ‘spare’ altitude when I crossed the goal line. Very exciting. Gavin and James were both in fast, Gavin might have been much faster had he not broken his speed bar 30K from the start.

The positive I take out of the day is that I had a 109km flight that would never have happened if this wasn’t a comp day. At about 30km I would have said ‘This is pretty dumb’ and flown into the valley and landed, rather than saying ‘This is pretty dumb’ and continuing because it was a comp task. I like that comp flying encourages you to stretch your limits and today was a classic example of that….but if anyone or anything that has the power is listening out there, can we please have one, nice, consistent smooth thermal that goes up all the way around? Just one?? Thanks.

Heading on an optimistic final glide...

Canadian Nationals Day 3

The wind was looking strong early on so we waited until 4pm for another update, but it wasn’t looking good so the day was cancelled. Surprisingly few injuries were reported for a non-flying day (to all the non-flyers out there, the days we don’t fly during paragliding competitions are generally when people get hurt), just a few minor volleyball related strains.

Karl from Jackson Hole had his speed wings out for some ground-handling in the strong wind. They look almost like real gliders…only smaller. Much smaller.

Canadian Nationals Day 2

We had some early cloud that looked to be building quite solidly. Will and other locals suggested that it would probably 'blue up' as the day progressed, but it looked like the kind of day in Australia where it would blow up before it would blue up. The sky did clear, or at least stopped building though nobody was in a hurry to launch after a couple windtechs probed around the sky without success. The task was pushed back a couple of times before Will told everyone that there would be no more waiting, conditions were soarable, so get off the hill you bunch of girls blouses (or something like that). He's a really nice guy so we all obeyed.

The task was a 75Km race to the south with goal at Spur Valley. When we finally dragged ourselves off the hill there was a moderate westerly, see previous comments about mozzies and grizzlies. This was enough incentive for all but a couple of adventurous souls. In terms of flying conditions, today could not have been further from yesterday. Very strong climbs with sharp edges and some punishing sink was the norm. Those who stayed high flew the task relatively easily but it was at the maximum work rate to keep things in shape and overhead. One pilot flying a Magus broke some C lines recovering from a series of collapses. Our own Gavin Zahner blasted home finishing third for the day and currently 4th overall.

Task 2

1 - Jamie Messenger, UK - 2:08:06
2 - Matt Beechinor, USA
3 - Gavin Zahner

7 - James T
11 - Heike
47 - Benn :-(

Flying for me is always a process of exploration and today I explored just how much sinking air can possibly exist on a very large, sunny, wind-ward facing mountain range. Further testing is needed for a definitive answer, but the prelimianry results suggest it's a hell of a lot more than you'd imagine.

Results are not online yet but will be at:
http://www.gravsports.com/Paragliding%20Pages/Canadian_Nationals_07/Canadian_Nationals.htm

Canadian Nationals Day 1

The whole competition is being run out of the Golden ECO Ranch so it's only a short stroll from tent to the headquarters where a dedicated group of ladies cook breakfast for us each day. We are not worthy. The whole shebang is being run by extreme sports legend and all around great guy Will Gadd. Will welcomed us and ran through the normal comp stuff including that there will be no point penalties this year for any indiscretion (cloud flying, not signing out etc) - any offenders will simply be thrown in the Columbia river. Except if you land over the back of the range in which case the Grizzly bears and the mosquitoes are enough punishment. Everyone agreed to behave.

We headed straight to launch but a re-brief was called for 4pm and eventually a task set with a start at 7.15pm and a goal close at 10.30! One of the amazing things about this place is that it's actually possible that a determined pilot could still be flying that late. We got to 2800m (a couple hundred higher than Mount Seven) in light, extremely smooth air prior to the start and then basically raced around the 35k course on the speed bar, slowing up only once to thermal. Sure it's mickey mouse but it's super fun as they say in the local lingo. The results for the day were:

1 - Matt Beechinor, USA - 42.07
2 - Jamie Messenger, UK
3 - Keith Maccullough, CAN

And Aussies:

5 - Gavin Zahner
6 - Me
9 - James Thompson
15 - Heike Hamann

It was easily the fastest task I've ever flown, Gav caught me at the second last turn point while I was screwing with my GPS thinking I still needed more height to make goal but we ended up arriving with many hundreds of metre's to spare. The air was so relaxing I managed to take photos before during and after the task. You've gotta love doing tasks in air that allows hands-off-the-brakes, speed-bar-on photography :-)

Heading North

I came back from eastern Oregon via Hood River - the Kite boarding and Windsurfing capital of the world, well the western US anyway, OK maybe just Oregon, regardless, the wind blows here often and it blows hard. I met up with Kari who has just officially become a kite board instructor so I could be her first guinea pig. I had a nightmare with the Greyhound service (actually the complete lack thereof) the night before but at the risk of being branded a serial bitch, I'm not going to tell you about it. Short of saying it was bordering on heaven to get off the bus in a place like Hood River:



Kari went out on the board for a bit and she can make that thing move! Then we got in the water and she strapped me into the kite after a few brief but vital instructions. It's a whole lot of sail for one little human! It was good fun and we messed around until sunset just flying the kite which really is what the sport is all about. It was fun to fly it back and forth as you have to keep the kite in the 'safety zone' - this is the area of the wind where the kite does not have any power, outside of which you are likely to be dragged so hard that water will go in your nose and out your eye balls in a very comical but painful fashion. It keeps you on your toes - and as I found out it keeps Kari on her toes when you once or twice accidentally dip into the power zone. Sorry Kari ;-)

I was back in Portland for a night and then caught the train with Heike up to Seattle . For the non-flyers out there, this is what 2 (that is two) paraglider pilots kit looks like:



I also have camping gear stuffed amongst all that. We drove into Canada with Bill Hughes who is the competition scorer extraordinaire in this part of the world. We got to Golden and had a flight Friday afternoon in fairly light conditions. Gavin (good mate, Aussie pilot, can fly a bit) was already here and disappearing from launch for a 60Km out and return as we arrived. I only had one flight as I managed to pick up a cold somehow and am not feeling the best for flying. Rumour has it that people regularly get sick after they have been in the water at Hood River, nothing has been proven yet... Here are a few picks around the campsite at Golden which is a brilliant place, huge fields, nice shady campsites, occasional friendly black bear. The Columbia river flows in the valley here and it is large. The river itself is deep and fast flowing but it overflows at random points turning the better part of the valley floor into swamp land, and if there is one thing more at home in a swamp than a redneck with motorised pleasure craft, it's the mosquito. Don't misunderstand me, these are not normal mosquitoes. Then entire valley around Golden is like some kind of Olympic training camp for mosquitoes and the camp site here is the nerve centre, where only the strongest, fittest, most doped-up mosquitoes are allowed to train. Since arriving I've been bitten by mosquitoes on parts of my body I've never even seen. I grew up with the regular teenage skin issues bur right now it looks like I have acne on my lower legs.

The Wallowallowas

I left Portland for eastern Oregon and a place called the Wallowas. I was saying 'WOL-OH-WAS' but apparently it's 'WOL-AH-WAS - either way it's a name that would not be out of place anywhere in Australia.



I got to the bus station to go from Portland to La Grand with plenty of time, had the bus not departed 15 minutes early. I would've been angry except it was midnight and the concept that a public bus service would leave 15 minutes before the scheduled time was so ridiculous that it made me laugh. I laughed slightly less when I realised it was true. Volumes could be written on how woeful the bus service is in the US but generally it seems to be that the service is only run as some kind of bizarre punishment to those who chose not to buy a car.

I met up with my old friend John and local Oregonian Pete and we headed into the wilderness on Saturday. Well, Saturday afternoon - we had to procrastinate a suitable amount in the morning, have breakfast, coffee, a bit more coffee, get some gear together, debate the relative merits of hiking into the hills versus sitting drinking beer and looking at them, eat enormous pizza and drink some beer, then hit the trail at 3pm. We still managed to arrive at Ice Lake, 12Km in and 1km up, before dark and caught a fish to to go with our Mac and Cheese. Pete fell asleep so John and I drank the two beers we carried in and ate the fish in his honour. The next day John and I climbed The Matterhorn while Pete scrambled up some creeks and went glissading on a snow drift. All around the lake were amazing wild flowers, birds, squirrel type creatures and we even saw goats up high on the mountain. We met back at Ice Lake and started hiking out just before 6pm, but not before Pete suggested we take an impromptu swim just before we split from the lake. It was random and excellent. We got back to the car right on dark which is just about perfect use of the day.

I'm supposed to tell you that the Wallowas is a place in Nebraska, it's boring, dusty, hot, there is nothing of interest and you will be infected by nasty diseases if you go there.

Below are pictures from somewhere else.

Sarma in Portland

There is a big difference between Sarma in Portland and Summer in Portland, but both of those things are not quite what you'd expect.

Summer is that part of the year squeezed between Spring and Autumn, hot, sunny and generally pleasant in most parts of the world. Portland has an interesting take on Summer. I grew up close enough to Melbourne to know the need for a storm jacket and a speedo all in one day, but Portland has you going for the wet weather gear and the skimpy underwear multiple times in each hour of the day. I spent a couple days back in Portland after LA and I've never taken my jacket on and off so much in such a short timeframe. I was afraid it would catch fire from the build up of friction.

Summer in Portland

Sarma is an absolutely delicious traditional Croatian dish which my father cooks. Portland has an interesting take on Sarma. Looking for lunch, I found a bunch of food stalls, one of which was offering 'European' food including Polish Golabki (Sarma from a different corner of the continent). I'd actually just eaten a Souvlaki when I found the Sarma seller, but I couldn't go past ordering one as it was the first time I've ever seen it for sale anywhere. It looked sooooooo good. But it was sooooooo disappointing. Other than it looking exactly the same it was unrecognisable as the same dish Dad serves up and I eat by the bucket load. I finished a couple of bites hoping the flavour was hidden in there somewhere, then I thought about garnishing it with the paper plate it was served on for at least a little spice, but I walked away instead. Things are not always what they seem.

Sarma in Portland

I was taken to a Soccer match by Liz, Amity and Garrett - guys I'd met at the Rat Race who were organising, driving, feeding us, entertaining us and generally being awesome throughout the competitions. It was the Portland Timbers v the Vancouver White Caps - a poor choice of name by the Canadian side if you ask me. The 'Vancouver White Ants' would make for a much more epic battle and surely one they couldn't loose, well, not against the Timbers anyway. It was the most fun I've ever had at a game. The Portland supporters are, how do you say...insane! There was singing and horn blowing and drum beating and yelling and beer spilling and singing and dancing and key-rattling and they have a mascot called 'Timber Tim' who is a burly man with a VERY large chainsaw who cuts a slab of timber off a waiting log each time the Timbers score a goal. Then he puts the chainsaw back in the log and does a back-flip for good measure. After half time, some ground came out loaded with beach balls and threw them all INTO the croud. Can you believe that??? It was an eye opener to how sterile big sports games in Australia have become. By the end of the match most of the Portland supporters had lost their voices, their beer and their inhibitions. It made an Aussie rules game look like lawn bowls on valium.




Oh and the Timbers came home 2-1.

Los Angeles...

...The City of Angels - who can no longer ascend to heaven because they're trapped in an eternal smog inversion. Poor Angels.

I travelled down to LA with George and Sue and we stayed with Tin and Katherine in Long Beach - Tin and George were friends when I met them both back in 2000. Tin and I did some biking around class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Palos Verdes, past Donald Trumps golf course, a road that is no longer straight because the earth wanders around so regularly and up to Venice beach - a real live human circus, this is reality TV up close and in the flesh.

Yosemite

I was almost going to pass on Yosemite but very glad I didn't. Flying up from LA to Portland I'd see Half Dome from the plane and that was my goal - an 8000ft high granite boulder. I'd read a little about the problems with bears in Yosemite and their taste for just about ANYTHING that can produce an odour, but it hadn't hit me as a major issue until I spoke to my friend Tin who has spent a lot of time there climbing. The general gist of what he told me was that if I wanted some delightfully random panel work, perhaps some unconventional door removal on my car, all I needed to do was leave a small piece of chocolate or fruit in the car and leave it overnight. Given I was driving a very neat, very new, borrowed VW beetle I decided against testing the theory. Before I even got near the park I searched the car for anything that might produce an odour and stuffed it all in a single bag to put in one of the bear-proof lockers, fully expecting that as soon as I pulled into the car park, a mountain lion was going to attach itself to the roof of my car and I would have to run for it, performing a commando roll through the legs of a waiting grizzly bear while a bald eagle clawed at my face. When I arrived, I was immediately surrounded by killer deer, an evil squirrel posse and an intimidatingly overweight marmot, they all had venom in their hearts and probably rabies. I barely survived.



Had a 5am start to hike Half Dome. It's a long days hike up and down, but in the end I realized the early start was good not because the hike was long but because you spend so much time taking photos. As you climb away from Yosemite valley, every switchback opens up an incredible view so you stop and take a dozen photos. The you climb a little higher and take another 20 shots because this has to be the best view, then you climb a little higher and take another 56 photos because it can't possibly get any better than this...and so on and so forth. Here is a selection from the couple hundred snaps of the day:

The hike up half dome is OK as a really long day - about 27km round trip with 1500m climb from the valley floor. Walking through pine and cedar forest all the way until you get onto the granite. The last few hundred metres is up a line of hand cables which are usable but a bit intimidating for some people who just sit out at the bottom. A hiker was killed a few weeks ago when he climbed outside the cables to take a picture and, with a heavy pack on his back, lost his balance. It's more than steep enough for that to be a problem, but if you stay inside the cables and focus on what you are doing it's fine. That said it was interesting that in this age of life by litigation, a setup like this which can reward stupidity with a rather alarming surprise is still maintained by the national park service each year. Most places would tear the cables down at the first incident and tell people to proceed at their own risk with their own equipment. Not sure if the pics above do it justice but it is as steep as it looks, if not more.

The next day I drove around Yosemite valley and had a look at El Capitan. I'd seen so many pictures of this piece of rock in books and magazines, lost who knows how many hours of my teenage years to day dreaming about it that seeing it in front of me was rather surreal. That might just have been left over delirium from the previous days hike though... I decided to drive out of the south entrance of the park and see Mariposa Grove - one of 70 remaining stands of Giant Sequoias in the Sierra Nevada range. These are not the tallest trees on the planet (though they can still grow to 80m), or the widest girth (that goes to the Kauri)or even the oldest lived (but they do live to 3000+ years), but by sheer volume, Giant Sequoias are the largest living things know to man. They grow much like humans, reaching their peak height in the first quarter of their lives and then slowly shrinking and putting on weight all over for the remainder. A trail takes you through the grove and you begin by walking past the young trees – 700 to 1000 years old - but you soon reach the Grizzly Giant, a 2700 year old behemoth.



It strikes me as disrespectful to try and put words to such a noble being using a language that didn't even exist when it was a sapling. I stood there trying comprehend how immeasurably old this living thing is, what it has seen and overcome, and my head wanted to explode. It's one thing to look at a huge piece of rock that has been shaped for a million years - it was as dead then as it is now - but here was a living, growing organism that is older than Christianity, it was fully grown before work even began on the hanging gardens of Babylon, it was 1000 years old when the Mayans began building all their temples. I turn 30 next month and I'm happy with that, but if I live to be 130, my life will have lasted a matter of days in the shadow of a Giant Sequoia.

San Francisco

I stayed in the San Francisco bay area with my friend George and his wife Sue - I met George while traveling through Idaho in 2000 but we haven't seen each other since so there was a lot of catching up to do. George and Sue spoiled me with a place to stay, feeding me and even lending me a car to drive around, thanks a ton guys! I spent a couple days looking around San Francisco and Marin county (the area north of the Golden Gate bridge). I had been through here years ago but only really briefly. I wandered around Sausalito which is like a Manly or St Kilda for San Francisco. After spending much too long in a café I went for a walk along the waterfront in Sausalito. Sometimes you realise a camera just isn't the best method of recording your surroundings - hundreds of yachts are moored together in Sausalito and a strong sea breeze was ripping through the bay (it would seem San Fran is very rarely calm). The wind blowing through this forest of masts made a low undulating base sound which was mixed with the high-pitched squeal of the wire rigging. It was an eerie soundtrack and I almost expected the four horsemen of the apocalypse to ride onto the wharf, followed by Bruce Willis and bunch of guys who would save the day with some creative but totally unfeasible use of a nuclear weapon. But there was only sunshine and ice cream and other things not really befitting the end of days. I walked on, deciding I'd had more than enough caffeine.



San Francisco overall is remarkably like Sydney, just with larger sea gulls and a public transport system that actually works. San Fran has lots of water, a big bridge (actually several), open-minded residents and about the same number of Gum trees. Seriously the place is covered in them; there is an island in he middle of the bay that could easily be any bushland park in any Australian city. I don’t know how they got here but they definitely don’t mind the climate.

I guess it’s the waterways and their uses that make San Fran so similar to Sydney, people boat and windsurf and swim - George was telling me that people swim regularly but even in summer the water is cold enough to need a wetsuit. I had this in mind as I walked along a curved pier which forms a sheltered anchorage for yachts. Where the pier opens into the bay there is a stretch of just 50 metres where the boats enter. It was windy, choppy, flowing strongly and generally inviting disaster, so I was amused when I saw a large sign on the opposite side of the channel which said 'Beware of swimmers!' I wondered if this was a warning to skippers sailing into the small bay not to run over the swimmers or a warning to the general public as anybody swimming in this piece of water was either there because they'd escaped incarceration (San Quentin is a decent swim away but Alcatraz is just nearby...) or they were there by choice in which case their mental stability was seriously questionable and they could come at you with their webbed feet at any moment. With that I looked over the edge and there was one of them - a man roughly 60, with swim cap but sans wetsuit, happily splashing up and down. I said hello, out of surprise more than anything, and he responded in kind, then before I could ask if he needed assistance he started backstroking across the channel doing his best impression of a sane person. People think paragliding is crazy...

Hanging out in Jefferson State

What would be the 51st American state (I guess Australia will have to challenge for 52nd spot) is a large chunk of Northern California and southern Oregon. In the 1940's a group of folk fed up with bad roads and falling down bridges declared they were seceding and Jefferson State was almost born. Pearl Harbour was bombed a short time later and the whole thing lost momentum - the war was in full swing and Oregon and California decided to repair the roads and bridges of their outlying counties so they could get in to dig up the resources and cut down the trees. Jefferson State was never fully realised, though it lives on as a state of mind, perhaps best displayed in a lovely little town called Ashland in southern Oregon.

I stayed with Peter and Emily who were simply fantastic in housing me, feeding me and showing me around Ashland which is about as perfect as any town I'd care to live in. The town feels like a commune that just grew up a little - they have an organic co-op which is the best place you're ever likely to buy groceries, a Shakespeare festival that runs for most of the summer over 3 different theatre's (we saw Romeo and Juliet on the Elizabethan Stage), it has easy access to flying and skiing, fruit trees everywhere, deer roam the streets and they have an outrageously fun 4th of July parade:



After the parade we headed south and camped in the Shasta valley with some more pilots who travelled up from San Francisco. I had seen Shasta off in the distance while flying at Woodrat and further off in the distance from Lakeview and I couldn't resist Peter's offer of getting up close to this tall, alluring northern californian lady. We flew from Whaleback, a smaller volcanic cinder cone about 8km from Mt Shasta, launching at 6pm Peter quickly climbed out. I took a while to catch up to him but eventually we were able to get just above 10,000ft and glided out into the valley. I'll let the pictures below do the talking - some of these were taken on the second day when we got to almost 13,000ft, again very late in the day.



It was an amazing place to fly with a great group of people. That perfect balance.

Next is some time in San Francisco and Los Angeles to see some friends new and old and then head back north for the competition in Canada.

Some pictures of the Rat Race and Lakeview and all the above pics can be seen at:

http://picasaweb.google.com/BennKovco

More soon.

Lakeview

In 1959 Fidel Castro assumed leadership in Cuba, the Barbie doll was born, the Dalai Lama fled to India to escape fighting in Tibet and Bob Howard was the Lakeview Tenpin Bowler of the Year.

The discovery of that last fact isn't exactly life changing, but there is something positive about registering these small things while chasing flying wherever it leads. One of the things I enjoy most about paragliding is the places it will take you. Little, nowhere, out of the way places you would otherwise never contemplate visiting and almost always wouldn't give a second glance if you did. Lakeview was one of those places and on a couple of windy days we got to experience it in a way few visitors do. We bowled in the same lanes and sat in the same chrome-legged aqua-blue moulded seats as Bob did 48 years ago - much of the bowling alley interior has certainly not changed though Bob's name now heads a long list of local bowling kings and queens.

Lakeview could easily be written off as just another dying rural town, but the people have a definite sense of pride that their history is something to be embraced rather than replaced. After bowling we walked down main street to a cinema just like you might see in any 50's film - small round box office facing the street, gleaming white billboards announcing the nights only showing and curtains rather than doors between the small foyer and the cinema floor. Gavin and I were slightly late to the film and the interior was dark, so it wasn't until the house lights came on that we realised we'd spent the last 2 hours in a cinematic time capsule. We learnt from the manager that the building was finished in 1949 and nothing has changed - other than the addition of 58 years worth of character and a complete history of modern cinema passed from reel to reel. The decor is original, the entirely comfortable and adequate seating, original. We would have had our popcorn cooked in the original 1949 popcorn machine if not for a heating element which failed only 6 weeks ago which can no longer be replaced. Now in retirement, the long serving machine rests in the foyer, just out of sight of it's young upstart of a replacement - a solemn gesture which I like to think was out of respect, sparing the regal old timer the indignity of seeing his space now occupied by an apprentice who will ultimately serve only a fraction of the masters tenure.

Without doubt there is more to Lakeview than well preserved entertainment venues, but it was good to learn at least that much and it's really satisfying to imagine that over half a century ago, Bob Howard bowled a 300 game at Lakeview Lane's, got up out of his chrome legged chair, walked around the corner to see the latest release - say Charlton Heston in 'Ben Hur' - and bought a cup of popcorn made by a machine that was only just getting warmed up.

US Nats - Final day

The last day of the Nats looked promising with light winds forecast and the possibility of reaching 12,000ft. A 112km task was set to the north and with a course line running directly along the spectacular Abert Rim, everyone was excited for a good task and visual feast on the final day. Sadly it wasn't to be. There was some quite consistent wind before the launch had even opened and conditions for the first 10 minutes of launch window were just passable for those confindent with very strong wind launches. The rest of the launch window wasn't sensible for anyone though a few die hards did get away with it. With over half the field still on the ground, the task was belatedly cancelled shortly after the start time.

Overall winners:

1 - Frank Brown
2 - Dean Stratton (US Champion)
3 - Kyndel Bannister

Women:

1 - Kari Castle
2 - Meredyth Malocsay
3 - Cherie Silvera

All the Lakeview winners:



The attendance at Lakeview was far less than expected, only 65 started and several departed after task 3, apparently it was due to Lakeview's reputation as a windy, rough place to fly. Maybe it is, maybe we just picked a bad week to be there, that said, the area still gave us 3 days, took people to 16'000ft and set a US record for task distance, you can't really argue with those numbers.

I was all set to head for San Francisco after the Nats when standing on launch on the last day, Peter Warren (see front row right hand side in the above pic) said he and a few others were going to fly the Shasta valley next week and welcomed me along. Mt Shasta is the 14'000ft volcano I mentioned earlier, it loomed up on the horizon on the first flight I had at Woodrat. So I cut off my plans to go directly to San Fran and am taking a little spin on the dune buggy of fate, always the best way to travel. More soon.



Topping out at 12,000ft shortly after the start on task 2. Gavin is in the centre of the photo.