Hips and Head, Cool Paragliding trip

I'm on a "common sport themes" kick right now. I'm looking for a sort of unified feild theory for the physical side of sports, or at least pieces of them. Last night I was running (literally) a kayak shuttle and had some time to think. I had been watching people on the river all evening and seeing a lot of the same errors (and some fantastic paddling too). To keep it simple I'll focus on the roll, a basic move in kayaking that's not that hard to do well. Back in the day I taught kayaking a lot (thanks to Otter Bar for the education!), that was where I first learned to read a student's movements and teach them how to correct them. There are a lot of ways to roll a kayak, but they all flow from the hips and head position. Most novices pull their head above the water first (makes sense, that's where the air is), but the head is a heavy object on the end of a relatively long lever (neck and body). If the head comes out of the water first and is the high point then a roll will seldom be effective. The kayak has to be flipped right side up first, and the hips do that, then the head and body follow. I only saw one roll yesterday that I would use as a "good" example of a roll; in all the rest the head was high and off the shoulder, and the hips snapped well after the head came out of the water. This started me thinking about how the hips and head work in climbing, paragliding, skiing, mountain biking and most other sports.

I'm starting to think that the hips drive and the head controls almost every movement in the sports I do. To turn a paraglider you have to drop a hip bone lower than the other one; it's not about "lean" but putting weight on the inside of the turn and the inside riser. We do drill in kayaking where we sit on the ground and ask people to lean the boat; most of the time they lean over with their body, but the boat doesn't move. The boat only starts to move when they start to lift the opposite hip with the obliques and some other muscles, driving one hip lower. Drop the head in this position and the boat goes back to flat and upright, which is the end of a roll. Paragliders need to do this drill too, I've taught it on the grass. Many people who heave been "leaning" for years suddenly discover they weren't leaning at all, but just flopping sideways with their head still between the risers...

Skiing has the same component--the hips drive the motions of skiing, and the head's position often determines balance over the skis. Mountain biking too-- the hips determine the basic balance point, and the body follows the head, and we go where our head is pointed...

There's a unified "head and hips" theory in here somewhere. I love teaching these sports and understanding how students think and progress, teaching is how I've learned the most about the technical (and psycological) side of any sport. Hmmm....

And for something completely different, check this out.
That's one hell of a paragliding trip!

Keep yer head down and drive with yours hips,

WG

London

In one of those, "Can you be here tomorrow" type situations I'm suddenly in London to work for a few days. I'm always a bit shell-shocked when I land in a city like London after the mountains and Canmore--so many people from so many different places, the bustle, the cars, the noise. It's oddly enervating and and draining at the same time. The main reason I agreed to come over in the midst of a lot of other stuff going on was to eat a massive Vindalloo curry. Found one last night, a mind-blowing quantity of red fire in a bowl... I've yet to find a good curry in Calgary or Canmore, any suggestions?

Today I'm going to go and shoot in a climbing gym somewhere here, fired up. All the kayaking, running and general not-climbing have left my elbow in good shape. Even though I'll be on plastic warts in the middle of one of the world's great cities it's gonna be great to PULL a bit. I've taken climbing for granted for a long time, it's a treasure. Maybe I'm a freak for being psyched to climb on plastic, but I actually really like it, the moves are clean and I also enjoy seeing the local scene. I feel reasonably strong after all the kayaking I've been doing this spring, trying to learn all the new play tricks. I haven't paddled much except the occasional river run for the last ten years, it's been fun to jump into the Kan in the evenings and playboat like mad in in my old X ("Dude! Vintage boat!" is a common comment, but it can still do more tricks than I can so I'm not upgrading).

The Ice Mines movie is about done, there will be some podcasts up in the next week or so, I'll post a link to those. This latest film is again done with Emerge Media in Calgary, good people to work with as always if you need some professional assistance with anything video related.

Right, into the fray of London, feeling a bit out of place in my shorts and T-shirt, lots of ties, suits, mod clothes, I always forget that this is "normal" and we're the freaks in the mountain towns...

Golden Flying

The flying in Golden has been really, really good. I wrote a little and posted some photos on Gravsports.

I also figured out how to make a Google Earth file of the GPS log, if you have Google earth you can download the file at the bottom of the page linked above.

Great weather here in the Rockies!

WG

Positive Power of Negative Thinking: No "Secret."

With full credit to the old Bad Religion song, I've always found thinking negatively to be very positive--the positive power of positive thinking is also powerful, but it's an empty hope without building a foundation dug in the dirt of reality. Right now there's a surge of interest in this book called "The Secret," which advocates that all you have to do to receive something is ask for it and believe you will get it (something to do with a "law of attraction" which most physics textbooks don't apply to new jobs or plasma TVs). I see a lot of this type of thinking in the world right now, from the invasion of Iraq to American Idol contestants. I find this attitude of, "I want it, give it to me now world!" kinda funny in a little kid writing letters to Santa Claus way. Except that in life we had better not rely too heavily on Santa Claus, at least if we want to stay alive or in business. I sometimes give talks about how to deal with risk; if we simply hope for a good outcome when climbing or flying we're likely dead. No, we have to think "negatively" about what could go wrong and how to avoid that in order to mitigate the risks, or at least understand them.

I often think up crazy schemes and then actually do them, from climbing icebergs with Ben Firth to setting world records for paragliding so I'm all for big dreams, but I also know that those dreams won't become reality without understanding the risks before going all-out. It's like the old Boy Scout motto of, "Hope for the best, prepare for the worst." I believe in the power of a big idea, but I also believe that hard work and critical thinking will lead to success a lot more than just, "I hope it works out..."

There's a good article at Slate today on the whole subject, check it out.

PS--I just found that there's actually a book with the same title, haven't read it but sounds kinda interesting.

Flow Sports

It's been a while since I wrote anything on here, but I've been crazy busy with travel and a video edit, so I've been playing when I have the time to do something non-work related. In the last few weeks I've been in the water and air a lot more (surfing in LA, thanks to Sheldon for that), paddling on the Kananaskis after work, flying in Saskatchewan (really good despite it's flat reputation, thanks to Jim Bahr for the hookup!) etc. My elbow is coming back strong, but every time I go rock climbing (bouldering in Squamish a few weeks ago, crazy fun!) it tweaks out, so I've decided on an active recovery program based on any sport but climbing, which is going great, definitely much stronger and happier, climbing will come.

I've been thinking a lot about the differences between what I call "flow" and "static" sports of late. Flow sports include kayaking, surfing, mountain biking, skiing, paragliding and any sport where the motion doesn't easily stop mid-action. "Static" sports include climbing, hiking, tennis, landscaping (been doing a lot of that, it's a sport for sure, anything you can get really sore at is a sport of some kind) etc. Now, static sports can have an element of flow and even brief moments of truly dynamic movement, but in general you can just stop doing them at almost any time and not much happens. In flow sports you can't stop without at least something interesting happening relatively quickly. In kayaking you're in the flow from the top of the rapid to the bottom, same with flying. In skiing you can also stop, but there's a much stronger sense of linked movement and reaction to the every-variable snow than in climbing, so it's a flow sport also.

I think we as mountain sports athletes often think the sports we do in the mountains are all related, but I don't think they're related beyond being in the same geographic area. Flying is far more like kayking than climbing, and surfing is far more like skiing than climbing. What's interesting to me are the mental links between these sports; someone who enjoys climbing may not enjoy or be mentally cut out for flying, it's a completely different form of stimulus and response. A pilot may not enjoy climbing, or be any good at it. The best pilots and best climbers are usually very good athletes and can cross over relatively easily, but I'm starting to think that the sports are best grouped not by their geography or physical movements but by the mental patterns a participant experiences..

When I first start flying and paddling every spring I can literally feel my brain working completely differently; it's not a physical response, but a mental re-wiring that needs to happen. When I'm paddling and flying a lot my reflexes are noticeably faster; I'll catch a dropped pen before it hits the ground, or respond on a "hard wired" level to stimulus that wouldn't effect me at all when I was climbing a lot. Driving feels very, very slow when I'm doing a lot of flow sports--I truly see traffic in a totally different way. When I go climbing after paddling a lot I'm too "twitched," and my motor skills are definitely messed up--it feels like I'm waiting for something to happen. I'd bet that I would respond much faster to a falling rock after a spring spent paddling than a spring spent sport climbing. Bouldering crosses a little more into the flow side of sports, but it's still relatively short, and often about grunting a well-visualized movement out smoothly than responding to new stimulus. The rock doesn't change a lot, and it's easy to step back and analyze things carefully. When I'm climbing well I see patterns and sequences better; I'll automatically sequence getting in and out of my car, or think about how I'm going to open a can of tuna--I can't help it, that's just how my brain works when doing a lot of climbing. I'll bet a CAT (Edit--MRI or PET is the correct technology) scan would reveal real differences in brain function; someone more educated than me can probably come up with what parts would be lighting up while paddling a big drop vs. climbing a sketchy 5.11 high above gear. Climbing is much more thought and visualization-intensive, paddling is much more reaction-intensive.

There are experiences that are common across flow and static sports, such as standing on top of a peak enjoying the sun or floating between rapids deep in a canyon. There's the same sense of appreciation for the power of the natural environment, at least for me, but the tools to access that state are totally different. I love the experience of blasting through deep powder just as much as giving blood and skin to a hard crack in Indian Creek and the physical "cook" can be similar, but they are totally different on a mental level.

No real point to this obviously, just interested in how my mind responds to sports. Flow, static, it's all good but so different. I look forward to thoughts others may have...

WG

The "P" scale

I've been on the road near-constantly for the last two months (Oz and Sweden and then LA) plus a bunch of writing projects, slide shows and other stuff that's reduced my writing time, but here's the quick report: The Sweden trip was insane, we climbed a lot of wild ice deep underground. There's enough underground, climate controlled ice in Sweden to keep the average ice climber happy for a very long time. It's sometimes difficult to access, but it's the future in a world that's warming up. Expect to hear more about these mines in the future, thanks to everyone on the trip, it sure was fun (most of the time, had a few adventures with falling ice that weren't so fun).

All of the underground climbing and some I've gotten done locally lately have made me realize that technical grades don't really convey the experience of climbing a route, or even just having adventures outside in general. Years ago I wrote a sarcastic article about a new grading system called "GAG," which stood for both how I feel about grades in general and also the acronym for Gadd Adjusted Grade. It basically combined technical difficulty with exposure/commitment etc, with "your couch" gettting a GAG of 1 and soloing 5.14 naked on the top of Everest a GAG of 20 or something. But I missed a few major components with the GAG scale, namely that the experience of climbing a route is really subjective and not at all about how hard or whatever. Plus I wanted a scale that covered all aspects of climbing that I do, from ice to bouldering to mountaineering to sport and some other stuff in there. So, in a slightly less sarcastic but still firmly less than serious effort, I'd like to introduce the "P" scale, which should both take the Piss as the Brits say and also define the important characteristics of any climb. These are "Position, Personal experience, Photographs, Partner, Posing and Post-trip posing," mostly all subjective.

"Position" refers to just how damn cool it is to be in the place or on the route. Routes with a high "P" score should make you stop and think, "Damn, this is great!" They don't have to be hard, just a really cool place. Anything from being 20 feet deep in an offwidth to standing on top of your local hill at sunset to looking down from halfway up El Cap get a high P rating. A gym generally gets a very low P rating.

"Personal" experience refers to how psyched you were with the climb. I give my first 5.11 (one of the Ski Track lines in J Tree, can't remember which) a very high "P" 'cause I fought through some some fear about the grade, gear, and was just so stoked when I got to the top. Same with some easy climbs that I had a hard time with, such as doing the North Face of Athabasca at -20 with my brother years ago. I give doing laps on a local training route a low P, 'cause it's just not that cool.

"Photographs" are just that--a great photo on the top of Mt. Alberta scores huge, a butt-shot on the local crag that's under-exposed gets nada. Photographs can be posed or combat, but they define the route in our own memories and often other's eyes. I have some photos from high school that are actually really good, and just evoke why I like to go climbing. Big helmet, Fire boots, rugby shirt, painter's pants, two-inch pink swami tied with a huge knot, yeah!

"Partner(s)" bring a lot to the experience of climbing. Good ones elevate the trip to something great (blasting into the desert and climbing Primrose with Nod Revils back in the day), bad ones the opposite (I still think about hunting down and killing the SOB who had me soling some Eldo slopefest in about '84, that was just wrong, sandbagging on a solo...). Partners are the only part of the scale that can be a negative number.

"Posing" is just that, and always involve photos or video. As a "professional climber," I've learned to split climbing into "climbing," which is what I like to do and live for, and "posing," which is work and what I have to do. I've climbed routes with very high grades but with lousy posing potential, and vice versa. I remember the first time I saw some of Wolfgang Gullich's climbs in Germany and realized that he was not only a master climber but also a master poser--I could have cleaned the entire route with an extendo brush on some of 'em, but I had thought they were at least a hundred feet high... Still rad climbs, but it was the Pose factor that made them well-known around the world, not just the grade.

"Post-trip Posing" is just that. This can take the form of "Dude, we climbed the Andromeda Strain at -20 with constant spindrift, sick!" to lengthy photos and editorial in a major manufacturer's catalog (OK, so I'm talking about Steve and Vince on the Rupal Face as portrayed in Patagonia's catalog--it was a magnificient post-trip posing piece as well as climb, and they deserved every word and photo). These are the stories about our climbs both verbal and in print, anything that makes the climb something speical to talk about publicly with friends or the world. Note that post-trip posing can backfire, as it did on Dean with his ascent of Delicate Arch (I'm not getting into that one, I respect Dean and just don't know what really happened, but it did definitely back-fire less than delicately).

Add all the factors above and you get the "P" grade. The "P" scale is fluid and adaptable to any climbing trip, or any sport really. It's also deliberately transient--climbs you did ten years ago perhaps aren't going to get as high a P grade because experiences since then knock them off the top of the list. My P scale goes from 1 to 10, but nothing says it can't get from 1 to 3 or 1 to 1,000, it's all about how damn cool it was based on the above. A "P10" from 1990 might only warrant a P3 now, because you're a better photographer and have reached deeper on other climbs.


WG
Disclaimer: Many climbers seem congenitally unable to handle attempted humor--this handicap is a form of near-autism. The above isn't a serious grading system but should be.

Travels in Sweden

Finally back home after the Sweden Ice Mines trip. It was insane, but thanks to a great team we did a fair amount of climbing, made an interesting film and came back safely. Thanks to the many, many people who made the trip possible and fun, incredible. I'll write about it some more once I get dug out from under the many messes littering my life after being on the road for the last two months. I have seen the future of mixed, and it is dark...

WG

Searching for Ice in Sweden

A few years ago I met some Swedes in Norway who told me about some amazing ice in abandoned mines in Sweden. It sounded cool, climbing ice underground... Now I'm here with my Norwegian friend, Andreas Spak, chasing around in mines looking for ice. Of course, this has been the warmest winter in history in Sweden, but the idea is that the mines hold the cold and the ice like giant refrigerators. We've seen some ice and a lot of dark holes in the ground, very strange to gear up in the Swedish spring and then drop into the dark and find glittering ice... Not much time to report on it all, but it sure is interesting and a crazy change from Australian summer just a week ago!

WG

Skaha

After years of access issues we finally have an opportunity to secure access to one of the best climbing areas in North America, Skaha Bluffs. All we need is a million dollars--not really so much in today's world. I'm going to pitch in $100 now and more when I have it--that's barely more than a lift ticket, and I've definitely had a lot more than $100 of fun at Skaha over the years. If every climber who has visited Skaha throws in $100 we'll get to that million mark relatively quickly. I know some of you don't have $100 and some of you have a lot more, whatever works, if we can get this done it will be a good thing. Just think of it as a "pump appreciation donation," grin... Spring climbing season is already on in Skaha!

WG

And now for some thanks...

The Worlds are done, some thanks:

To all of those who bought 50/50 tickets, Columbia View Homes, Invico, Dave Urock, Vincene Muller, Amir, HPAC, AHPA and everyone else who my lousy memory is skipping over for the team support. I thought about that every day, thanks.

To Nicole for being our Team Leader at the World Championships. She had to get up earlier and walk into town more than any of us, yet still did more sandwhich making etc. Somebody should really hire her to run exotic paragliding trips to distant lands or something, not only is she a good pilot (despite having a tough worlds) she's also very well organized with a good atttitude. So thanks Nicole.

To Keith for being Keith. Hard to spend a month in a "caravan" with any guy, but Keith kept it reasonably entertaining with daily electrical pyrotechnics (how many electrical appliances did you fry again Keith?) and a solid result. It's also nice to get beat by a young pup occasionally, but don't make it a habit.

To David and Lee of the River Gums Caravan Park in Manilla. All I can say is that I hope to see the both of you in Canada this summer, thanks for a very long list of things way beyond the call of duty. For anyone thinking of a flying trip to Manilla, consider staying in the caravans or "crash pads" at the River Gums, it's just a great base.

To my fellow River Gummers--I made some new friends in the Gums that I also hope to see around the world, that 40th Birthday Party was great due to all of you also staying in the Gums, yeah!

To Team America, Fuck Yeah! Great results from Tom and Josh, but just nice to have good friends around, especially on those days when I was melting down from the gaggle stress and whining a lot.

To Godfrey and especially every volunteer who worked on the Worlds. It had to be like herding cats in the rain a lot of the time, but it was a an overall fine event due to the hard work from all the Manilla and Oz people.

To Oz--I will be back, not just to fly and climb, but to meet more locals, drink more beer and get stung by more strange things. Great country.

To you, the readers, for all the emails and comments during the worlds, both the "nice" ones and the "Get yer head out of your ass" ones, perspective is good.

I'm back home and gearing up for a Sweden trip starting Sunday. The elbow is working pretty well (I actually had some decent training in Manilla with ice tools on a local swing set), so fired up to finish the winter out with a good climbing trip, yeah!

Play safe enough,

WG

The Secret to Success

After last night's party the morning was a bit rough. The sky just kept getting better, so up the hill we went. On launch I found a shady spot and worked on my hydration levels while the usual gaggle formed in front of launch. Eventually I couldn't put it off any longer and staggered off the hill. The climbs off launch were ragged, weak and inconsistent, sort of like my thinking. But I just didn't care. The ground looked really hot, and I just wasn't up for that level of suffering. Eventually I flew down the ridge to the edge of the start cylinder and got to base, then up the side of a cloud. Suddenly it started to be fun--edging along a cloud, way up high, that's what flying is all about. I forgot about the start cylinder until I noticed gliders turning back for it. There were four start "gates," and I exited about five minutes after the third start--not ideal, but I was at base so I just kept going. Keith was just below me, we had a quick conversation and decided to just head out rather than play start games.

For the next two hours the flying was just super fun--some real climbs, lots of flying through cloud canyons above base, just great stuff. I wasn't racing hard or worrying about other gliders ahead of me, just flying along. I pushed out front a couple of times with a few other pilots, each time we would get caught by the horde, but each time there were less gliders, and those in my thermal were fun to fly with, good pilots who were flying the lift and not the glider in front of them. Suddenly I was with the lead four gliders, and high. We worked the next 20K as a team, and for once nobody was circling in anemic lift, everybody left and fanned out looking for the next climb, which one of us would find. About 20K from goal we started what might be our final, and had a great glide under a dark cloud. A little bit of bar to stay out of the cloud, then I got left as the other three gliders went hard when it became clear we were going to make goal with some altitude. I have been convinced I had goal in this meet before only to dirt, so I had a snack on glide rather than push hard, it sure was nice up there. I came over goal line around fourth for the day (other pilots may have been faster than me with later starts), but it sure was fun to be at base over the goal line. Keith and Tom came in a few minutes behind me, then Josh about 30 minutes later (he took the last start so that's really only 1o minutes back).

Today was a good illustration of how fun competition flying can be. Conditions weren't great, but they were better and the cloud edge surfing was just stellar. I could pretend that I had skill today instead of better luck, but this been the most random, frustrating competition I've ever flown in. My best memories will be of the people I've met here, especially our hosts at the River Gums, David and Lee, as well as the ranchers, school bus driver, bar tenders and just the general population of Australia. If I had to sum up the flying, I would say, "Never have so many pilots flown so close together in so little lift for such a long time." We saw what it can be like in Manilla during the XC comp--fantastic. This Worlds was like a big-wave surfing contest with six-inch waves; it takes skill to do that, but it's a different game. I now know what I like about competition flying and what I don't, I hope I can carry a more balanced attitude into future paragliding competitions both as a competitor and meet organizer.

I'm going to close this off with one experience that stands out and puts the whole deal in perspective. One day I didn't make goal and ended up there only after a car ride. Goal was about a K from the River Gums (our campground), so after doing the GPS download I started the walk of shame back to the campground. There was a beat-out old Holden "ute" parked in the shade, and as I walked by an old guy stuck his head out the passenger side and asked, "Are you a pilot?" I didn't feel like one, but I said, "Yes." He said, "That sure looks like fun--you get so high up there! What's that like?" I was hot, tired and pissed off that I hadn't made goal, but his lined face showed such enthusiasm that it cut through my pissy attitude in an instant. I said something about the clouds being really nice to fly under, and he said, "Wow, I'm 89 years old and that's just amazing, never seen that. I'll bet it's just great." In that moment I realized that I was really missing the point of the day and experience--it sure is fun up there, and it took this old guy to make me realize that beating other people isn't why I fly. I'll try to keep that guy in mind next time I'm short of goal and getting pissy. The flip side of that is getting all wound up with doing well--both are external judgements, the true quality of a day is not found in the results card. That said, I sure am fired up to fly in Golden when I get home, a good strong thermal is a good thing.

Going up the hill

Yesterday was a little bit rained out in the same way that Britney Speaks is a little bit nuts. The rain was was biblical--BBC and I went running in the morning and watched the storm develop, Oz sure has some great storms.

Last night turned into a stellar birthday/farewell party here at the River Gums--David and Lee have really made this trip for a lot of us, thanks to them for last night (although my head has mixed feelings this morning). My favorite part of this whole comp has been the people here in Oz--ten years from now I'm not going to remember the competiton in detail, but I sure am going to remember a lot of the good people here.

There's a John Prine saying with the line something like, "Got into a staring contest with my oatmeal--and lost..." That about sums up the interior of my head, but it sure was fun. The sky is clear this morning with little moisture balls condensng out like crazy, we'll see if they stay reasonable or turn into monsters. One more task would be really nice. I'm sitting here in the shade with various loud birds going nuts, and a view out over a landscape that looks more like Ireland after a wet summer than the near-desert we arrived in, amazing to see the change. The ranchers and farmers visiting town all have smiles on their faces from the rain, it was really, really needed. The paragliders aren't smiling so much. Maybe the World Championships should be renamed, "The Drought Busters" and charge real money for coming into drought-stricken areas. This is the wettest it's been here in years--even the sheep seem to be smiling at the sea of green grass, it's a far cry from the desperately dry stubble they were working with a month ago. We see the sheep and cows every morning when we run, they truly have a visible different attitude, it's as though all of the Manilla area has finally won the lottery. Grumbling about the bad weather for flying would miss the gift these rains have brought to this parched land.

Best,

WG

A day of it

This morning didn't look promising, but by about 1:00 things had cleared out enough to try a task. There was a big gaggle cluster immediately after the window opened and I wasn't into it, so I waited until it cleared out a bit. I had vivid memories of the gaggles from the last task and just wanted no part of it, too much random chaos. While waiting for things to mellow out I watched one solid mid-air that resulted in a stellar bit of piloting to solve a bad cluster of lines on one glider and a reserve ride for the other pilot. I continued to sit and chill out in the shade then got right onto launch and off when things settled down a bit. It was all going well, with a nice if weak climb about launch level when two gliders about 50M below me flew straight at and then into each other with a really bad sound. One pilot was a meter below the leading edge of the other glider so she was pretty wrapped in the lines of the lower glider. Both pilots weren't all that high, and both seemed to be looking up at their wings (good idea) and not the ground (bad idea) so I started yelling, "RESERVE! SECURITY!," two common terms for reserve parachutes in English and French. I doubt either pilot heard me, but I had to try. Neither wing was flying and the ground was coming up fast. Eventually both pilots got their reserves out and went into the trees together. I was still thermalling directly overhead, and unfortunately could hear the yells of pain from one pilot. They were directly off the road to launch and there was an ambulance five minutes or less away on top that was already in motion down the hill so I didn't try to land (no safe place to land anyhow).

After that the rest of the task seemed somehow less relevant; I just flew and thought about flying, ended up landing a K from goal. I'm not sure what I could have done better, there's a whole lot of luck and skill in these very light conditions.

I am thankful for not having a mid-air in this comp, it's been nuts. The individual/start gates are supposed to cut down on the gaggles, but as usual they don't--everyone rushes off the hill together, and then thermals around waiting to go on course... A larger start circle would be better to spread pilots out, and then a race start. The more I see of individual starts/gates the less I believe in them, they just don't do what they are supposed to. Great idea, but in paragliding comps they seem to lead to far more problems than they are supposed to solve.

Tom and Kari both made goal today, Bill, Keith and Nicole went down around 30K. Petra must have had a really bad day as she didn't get many points, bummer for her. The forecast for tomorrow isn't good, but who knows, it's paragliding.

A big thanks to JJ and the Oz Team for having us all over for dinner tonight, good fun.

I hope the injured pilot is OK.

Blowing in the wind

This morning the clouds were going overhead at speeds well above what a paraglider might hope to accomplish, but up the hill we went. This was actually a good call, we're here to fly. But conditions on launch were marginal at best, with a very low but extensive base and enough wind to make things interesting. Maurer went and flew for "fun," and amused us all with various tricks. The guy has some damn fine wing control, and the confidence to make use of it--he gave an impressive demonstration of stalling about on a high-aspect comp wing at low altitudes and some other tricks, then hopped on the bar and blasted away from launch. I don't think I would have felt happy about being on the bar in those choppy conditions, but Maurer made it look smooth, even the collapsing parts.

The highlight of the day was finding a local church group on top of the hill with an insane amount of baked goods, which we did our best to eat while listening to good local stories. I really like the scene here, it's pretty "real."

The weather for the next three days looks pretty good if the wind stops blowing. Hopefully not too much Vegemite will be eaten...

Thanks to all those who posted info and suggestions in the comments pages, yeah!

Best,

WG

Vegemite for breakfast, thunderstorms for lunch

The scene around the breakfast table this morning was grim; seven pilots and seven small containers of Vegemite, seven pieces of dry toast. Nobody made goal yesterday, it was time to pay. Keith went with the "A moment on the lips, a lifetime in the stomach" tactic and skipped the toast to slam his like a shot-glass of congealed axle grease. The rest of us went for the toast, and it went down well enough except for Nicole, who had to try a couple of times after the first bite went down slowly and up fast. Personally, I didn't find it too bad after the initial rotten taste. I've had far worse foods over the years (the very worst was rotten shark in Iceland), but I can't say I'll be trying to bring any back home with me. We pledged another Vegemite session if we don't make goal next task, but were given a reprieve on flyng after we drove up the hill with thunderstorms all around us. Even if the sky had been blue I don't think I would have flown with those cells. On launch Godfrey chose to send us back down the hill, but it was fun to get out of town a bit.

We've had a lengthy discussion going for days now on why we're such losers at this event (with the exception of Tom and Josh, who did well until yesterday), and the general conclusion is that turning endlessly in the gaggle only happens when you really, really want a result. I don't think many people would argue flying in rush-hour traffic for hours is all that fun, but you do it when you want something else badly enough to tolerate it. We all ran out of patience yesterday, as did many of the pilots who are normally in the top at PWC or other major competitions. This style of flying just isn't what I enjoy about the sport, and unless you're in the running for a podium placement the motivation for flying in this style is in short supply. It would be really fun for an hour or two with some friends at local site, but with 140 other gliders for five or six hours, well, it's not, at least for me. But we have a new, stepped up motivational plan: Tomorrow we're all going to fly with little packs of Vegemite strapped to our shoulder harnesses; if we even think of leaving the gaggle in search of a better climb (which doesn't exist in these sodden conditions) we'll open the pack of Vegemite, get a sniff, and stay in the gaggle.

I do have to thank our "caravan park" hosts, David and Lee, who are a big reason we haven't headed for the beaches of Sydney yet. In fact, the Manilla area is good, I'd really like to come bak here again. Those epic days during the XC comp are blazed into my mind, and I think this competition would be very different if we had XC comp conditions during the Worlds. One person described yesterday as, "Worse than Brazil," which had bug-flatulence conditions for a lot of the comp as well. Anyhow, I know we're not seeing the bes of Manilla flying right now, and with the good local scene I'll be back.

In other news, Petra is winning the competition overall. On launch today there was a discussion about a woman possibly winning the overall competition. I think that would be pretty cool, but it does raise the question of whether or not they will declare a "Male Champion." I'm just sexist enough to think this would be stupid... If Petra does win then perhaps competitions will drop the male/female categories, a female world champion would be a strong argument for the idea that flying skill is not based on gender. There are several sports based more on skill than physical strength where they don't split the genders into different categories (race car driving, equestrian events), maybe it's time to drop that distinction in flying as well...

Hopefully we'll get to fly a few more tasks here, I'm feeling psyched to fly. A lot of that is understanding what's required to do well at this sort of event (gaggle up in micro-lift, fly in styles that I normally never would), and what I love about flying (freedom and exploring the world). I'll do my best to gaggle up and relax about it, but I'm not willing to take the same risks as yesterday, this competition is important but not worth a mid-air accident. I always find it a bit harsh to finally understand that something I put a lot of effort into isn't what I actually want, but that's part of figuring this game of life out. No regrets.

OK, that's a monster rainy day post...

Churning in the sky

Today started off so well. Launched off the uncrowded east launch while the hordes pushed and shoved in line on the west launch, straight to base. We had about 45 minutes before the start opened, so I did some long glides out away from a perfect cloud--fixed my speed system, did some high-altitude irrigating, ate a granola bar, then back into launch, back to base, brilliant. Had an OK start with the other 100+ pilots, then did a very silent glide into the first turnpoint--little bumps of lift, but that kind of air normally means dirt pretty quick. But put 100+ pilots into a small area and something is bound to be found, and was--a thermal so weak any self-respecting hawk would have left it, but I had the Vegemite incentive (see last post) so I stuck my glider into the seething madness and turned with the worst of them. There were multiple mid-air bumps, at least two full-on mid-air collissions, cursing in at least five different languages, road rage and lots of spins from trying to work the light lift. I was INTO it--fully prepared to mid-air rather than leave the "lift." It was stupid beyond any reasonable definition of the word, but I was in the air. I watched gliders lawn-dart all around me with the thought, "Vegemites!"

Four hours later I lost it, left the gaggle and landed along with about 50 more pilots over time at the 40K mark. My helmet liner was soaked, my hydration hose empty and my mind cooked. I'm eating Vegemite for breakfast, can't wait. Nobody from North America played the conditions all that well, Nicole, Tom and Keith were in the same field about 45 minutes after me, which was an exceptional act of mental toughness to stay in the air so long. A few pilots who really, really wanted it were seen on glide toward goal, I'll bet about 10 made it in. These pilots deserve full aerial honours for the day, amazing mental tenacity.

Tomorrow I'm going to launch wearing only a thong and a pair of cut-off speed sleeves, it must have been 30 (90 American) at base today, I have never sweated so much in flight.

Vegemite for Brekkie, yeah!

The real probem is the wet ground--the field I landed in was mostly mud. Today should have been good for drying things out...

A new plan

Obviously Bill, Nicole and I need some incentive to stay in the air and go to goal. Today we had one of those "wow" moments and came up with a bold new plan--anyone who doesn't make goal has to eat an entire package of Vegemite. I'd heard of Vegemite before this trip, but never actually tasted it until I mistakenly put a whack of it on toast one morning, which sure was a waste of good toast. I'm not sure what Vegemite is made from despite the name implying that vegetables are used somewhere in the manufacturing process--I'm thinking used motor oil from rusting Soviet farm tractors, or maybe street scrapings from New York city, but it really is a mystery product right up there with "chicken" McNuggets. In any case, none of the usual incenitives were working in this comp for us, so the Vegemite gauntlet has been thrown down, game on. Today looks good if the wind doesn't pick up like it did yesterday.

WG

PS--Does Vegemite explain the Australian accent? I found it very hard to talk naturally after eating it also... Nah, we love ya Oz, I'll for sure be coming back here, good country and people.

Worlds Task Two

Flying in the Worlds

Short report: A good task was had today, plenty of people in goal, and plenty just short.

My view: We've had two tasks, and I've suffered from the same attention deficit issue on both tasks. On the first one we sat around endlessly at base, I got bored and left with Bill. Today we sat around on launch waiting for it to blow in--I was laid out about third in the lines of gliders, and got frustrated at the wait. By the time I was in the air I was hot and annoyed, more so as a glider laid out in front of me as I got ready to launch. If I were really here to compete then I would suck it up and stay focused, but the bottom line is that I'm not all that mentally "in" this competition. That's a weird thing to say about a world championship, but the whole vibe just annoys me. Sit around, cue up, it's just plain aggravating. In the XC comp we launched and flew, and I was happy to be in the air each day. Here it's been a far cry from the sort of flying I enjoy. I'm used to competing in different sports and can normally focus on the task at hand (so to speak), but I just don't seem to have any competition mojo for this one.

After launch today the gaggle flying was really bad--lots of pilots in a small space, with a few people cutting through the gaggle randomly. I was nearly mid-aired twice, and kept leaving the gaggle to find something less messy. I'd get a climb on and then the gaggle would jump into it. That's OK when it's going up good, but the climbs were weak. I was in the lead gaggle to the first turnpoint, but didn't slow down on the way back along the ridge, there were just too many damn gliders to enjoy the air. Eventually I climbed out, then got mobbed again and left before topping out the climb. That was it, I went on glide into a blue hole and then landed close to a road, no enthusiasm left. You can't be flying to avoid other gliders in this sort of meet...

I've had this happen at pargliding comps before--it's one reason I didn't compete much for about five years. Too much time sitting around, too many politics, too many of the things I go flying to not experience. The contrast between this competition and the Manilla XC event is really jarring--good fun flying vs. clusters…

I'll have to figure out why I'm here and what the goal is, at this point I've about had it. I do better with a goal, the last two days I haven't had one and the results are clear. Keith did well yesterday, as did Josh and Tom, so Canada and the U.S. are doing well, good to see.

PG Worlds Day 5

The thunderstorms started boiling about 7:00 a.m., and the first light rain just drove us under the awning at 9:15. The forecast is for improved weather starting tomorrow, we'll see. It's pretty cool to watch the landscape around here green up--after the worst drought in a century the rain is certainly needed. It definitely feels more like northern California here this morning than the blazing hot Oz we've come to love... We snuck a task in two days ago when I was sure we wouldn't get one so anything is possible, but it doesn't look good.

A friend of mine wrote and said that I should ignore the politics at the Worlds, the politics just get in the way of a good time. He's right. Individually, most people in paragliding are really good people. But somehow it tends to get sideways a lot at competitions--I'm going to just ignore the politics.

Looks like a full slate of running, training on the local swing set and work today...


WG

Worlds Day One

Despite the sprinkles in the morning and the general air of, "No way in hell we're going flying," all of a sudden we're up on top of the hill as the air clears out. I hiked up today, needed to spin the lungs hard, it's been a while. Then I wanted to check my speed system out, so I went for a flap while the usual launch delay happened. Got back up on launh just as a task was decided upon, but a little rushed. Launched and spent the next 45 minutes doing circles at cloud base with the entire field--it was an individual start, and nobody wanted to go first. I think individual starts in paragliding are stupid, and this idiocy was compounded today by the fact that there were no points for leading or departure, so basically everyone was waiting at base for people to leave so the field could use the early pilots as thermal markers. I held off as long as I could, and finally gave in when Bill B. wanted to go so we did. It didn't work out for us so well, we landed after only a couple of thermals. About 15 minutes later the first monster gaggle flew over our heads, followed about an hour and a half later by another massive gaggle. I was having a rest in the shade while enjoying a long hike so I got to watch it. There was some poetic justice in that the gaggle that waited for most of the field to get on course didn't make goal as the day shut down. This puts most of the "top" pilots in a points hole for the rest of the meet. I have to laugh, what we call the "pimps" were owned today.

Individual starts, especially using the old GAP system without leading or departure points as we did today, annoy the hell out of me. There are various arguments for using them, mainly that it becomes more "strategic," but the field starts acting like the bicyclists at the start of a veldrome race instead of going flying. I can not honestly think of one situation where an individual start is preferrable to having a mass air start. Some people like individual starts because it theoretically spreads the field out more, but the goal of a paragliding competition is to put all the pilots into the same mass of air and have at it. It's called racing, not dicking about endlessly... Another reason people often want individual starts is to "reduce congestion," but all that ends up happening normally is that the entire field circles above launch waiting for someone else to start. And if the day is so poor that people can't effectively get up and fly then perhaps it's a junk day... I'm annoyed by landing early, but when the entire field is circling at base literally for hours waiting for people to get out on course to use as thermal markers, well, that's just retarded. Tomorrow is another day, and my goal is to become one with the individual start style, to be a good competitor you must deal with what is presented.

The good news from today is that Nicole made goal, and did so relatively quickly. Keith landed short (he went even earlier than I did, I wish I had gone with him but was trying to exercise patience), so Nicole is the top Canadian today, nice work Nicole! Josh and Tom made goal also, so North America is doing OK here.

The FAI/pilot politics continue, there are soap operas to be written about all of that. I'm starting to feel that perhaps big PG comps are missing out on the best parts of flying. I was reprimanded today for flying before the task--for me the flying is what I'm here for, the compettion is a reason to come fly in Oz. I knew the task would be delayed several times, might as well go flying while waiting to go flying, no?

Oz continues to amaze, saw a whole flock of parrots today as I walking out, plus the tip end of a snake and something that took a chunk out of my back when I lay down in the shade to rest. One thing for sure is that I'll be back here to Oz, it's got something that is special and good in both the people and landscape.

Day Three Worlds

The Paragliding World Championships are underway, but we've yet to fly a task. People are starting to joke about the "Curse of Pinzgau," a town in Austria that hosted the Worlds a few years back. They flew two tasks there in dangerous conditions in two weeks... On the other hand we're getting caught up on work, running, rain, etc. The locals love the rain as there's been a serious drought on for years. When we arrived it was pretty brown, now it looks nice and green, a bit more like the province's name of New South Wales. There's even a fair amount of water in the formerly bucolic creek behind the campground.

There is, despite the lack of flying, an incredible amount of nationalistic bitching going on at the "team leader" and FAI levels. Various teams are conniving ways to get more of their pilots higher in the launch line priority, or whatever they can possibly do to improve potential position in the air. Our team leader, Nicole, comes back from the morning Team Leader meeting with tales that would warm the heart of the most cold-blooded lawyer. I look at the whole "National" competition concept a bit sideways--I'm proud to represent Canada and do my best for the team, but I'd like to think this is a more of a global gathering of good pilots to fly at a high level. Working the system for team advantage is somewhere between laughable and retarded. If we don't get to fly soon this competition will end up in Manilla's courthouse, or turn into a contest to race team vehicles up and down the launch road. We've got the best driver, Dave, so game on.

Rain

After an insane week of flying, the best I've had in many years, the weather turned just in time for the first day of the World Championships. The development was big as we rigged up on launch, and a few of the wind dummies were getting parked up in high winds over launch. Hmmmm.... I decided to keep my flight clothes off and hang out in the shade. Five minutes before the launch window there were relatively few pilots in the launch lines and even fewer on launch actually ready to go. Keith was dressed and ready to go when they cancelled the day, and expressed his displeasure. I noticed that many of the older pilots hadn't even got their gliders out... The wind went ballastic as we drove down, so a good decision.

Yesterday afternoon we were treated to an absolutely insane thunder storm--one of our tents was floating. This morning Bill and I had a run in the cool conditions, pretty nice to actually feel slightly cool on the morning run. Conditions today look wet, we'll see if they send us up the hill or not. I'm still worked from the last week of flying, these rest days are nice. There's a surprising amount to do here even on non-flying days--yesterday I spent the afternoon tweaking my risers with Seoung from the Gin team and a bunch of other stuff. Today I'll update the Gravsports web site for ice conditions, sorry to be late on that, had some other writing etc. to get done.

WG

Manilla XC Wrap

We're heading up the hill in a minute for the first practice day of the worlds, but a few wrap-up thoughts:

Our driver, Daniel, did a great job chasing us down and getting us back without hitting any Roos. Having a good driver is really important in an XC comp, thanks to him.

Flying here is incredible. We've had an epic, stonking week of conditions. Yesterday it rained hard in Manilla for the first time in weeks, but people still flew until early afternoon. This site is right up there with the best I've ever flown anywhere in the world, a combination of flat-land flying and hill terrain. It reminds me most of east Texas in terms of topography (hill country area).

The locals here have been super-friendly. They don't exactly speak English as we know it, but getting to understand the dialect is part of the fun.

Our team, team Dirka Dirka (if you haven't seen the movie Team America: World Police then rent it right away) placed second. Pretty solid. Funny to hear all the super-serious team names read off, then "And in second place, Team Dirka Dirka!"). Part of the fun of any comp is hanging out with the people there, it was fun to fly and hang with Keith, Tom and Nicole.

This wasn't an XC comp like any I've ever been to--the field was extremely strong. The spread between first and 20th was only a few hundred points. It's one thing to drift downwind for 6 hours, quite another to be holding as much bar as possible on every glide and working desperately to max climb rates. Each day felt like a task because it was on course line, and the competition was fierce.

I'm simply blown away by the level of flying I've seen here. When I show up to compete in North America I know there are maybe 10 pilots flying at a pretty high level; here in this comp there were at least 30 flying at a level I didn't know existed. I learned from them and am happy with my result (eighth place and close in points to the podium), it would be arrogant to expect to be able to beat these guys with the relatively limited competitition experience I have. Part of becoming a better pilot is to admit my own limitations and then try to expand them. We can all start thinking we're pretty good when we look around at our local scene, but the reality is that the true world level of competition flying is VERY high. Take any good competition pilot and put him in an XC comp like this and he will rock it. The same isn't true of XC pilots (I'd put myself into that category) at a world-class competition. As with any sport, competition defines the pinnacle of pure technical skill. That said, going fast all the time is not what paragliding is always about to me. In fact, I'm not sure it's the best part of the sport at all. For me flying is a method to explore the atmosphere, new places/people and my own head. Competition is extremely useful for honing the technical skills of moving well in the atmosphere. When XC flying you can make a poor decision and blame it on luck, but when you're racing with 30 other pilots who make a different decision and do better, well, obviously you made a bad decision. I learned a lot last week, and am really looking forward to taking those skills back to my home sites and seeing how they work...


OK, up the hill to practice for the worlds, yeah!

WG

Manilla XC comp day 8

Yesterday was the last day of the comp. After flying seven of the last eight days I was pretty pounded--I've flown over 35 hours and more than 900K for the week. But I got all fired up on launch when Gin showed up with a van full of new Boomerang 5 gliders, yeah! By the time I had mine sorted I was a bit late off of launch, and spent the first half of the flight trying to figure a new glider out. I was slow until about the half-way point of the day, when I realized I needed a better result than one of my other tasks and went out hard--it's a good thing I did, as one pilot made it out around 125K by the four p.m. task end time. I wound up at 110.5, good enough for a decent score. The results weren't done last night until 11:30, but did well enough to end up in eighth. The scores are incredibly tight from second to 20th or so. On task seven, where I thought the lead gaggle had gone down, they hadn't--they just went well off the course line but more with the wind, that was enough to put them around 20K up on me. The power of the gaggle is strong... I'm happy with who I flew, but in retrospect I was just plain wrong about them going down early. I stayed on the course line, but they must have been able to hammer it less cross-wind. I'm still happy with my decisions through this comp in terms of safety and reading the sky, but I have some things to learn about using the gaggle. I'm fired up for the worlds now, game on!

This was an interesting comp as it started out as pure open distance, then turned into gaggles racing along a course line. I think the open distance format has good validity, but pilots must take responsibility for their own decisions in the air regarding safety. One part of the sky may be insane and the other 300+ degrees from launch fine, so the organizer can't cancel the day because one direction is bad. It turns out that day one wasn't all that important in terms of scoring because we had so many other valid days, but it forced the organizers and jury to make this more of a "normal" comp. I hope Hans and Andreas can come up with a solution ton some competitors feeling the organizers must cancel days where the field is doing something stupid... The open XC comp idea is great, I'd do it again. This has been the best week of flying I've ever had, truly amazing good fun and educational.

The Boom 5 is a very good glider--more stable, faster, very easy to fly. I didn't fold it up once yesterday even when I went into chase mode and started hammering to make time up on the course in very strong conditions. It doesn't turn as well as the 4, or I haven't figured out how to make it turn as well, but everything else is great. Gin is working on the trim a bit to improve turning, the glider is again a big leap forward in performance and stability. Paragliders just keep getting better, amazing.

Today is a rest day, time to catch up on email, sort gliders, fix things etc. Looking forward to NOT flying, that's a nice feeling to have.

Manilla XC day something

Yesterday turned out way better than the morning clouds made it look--200K better. Super fun flight with a very technical section between about 100 and 140K that dropped most of the lead gaggle. One thing I've learned here is to trust my own judgement--I'm not very good at gaggle flying when it comes right down to it, and if I just do what I think makes sense I usually do better than trying to chase the gaggle down. In a non-XC comp you have to play the gaggle game, but with this style of flying the gaggle is often wrong--one person will lead out off the gaggle, and they all chase whoever that person is. So really it's decision making by one or two guys anyhow, might as well be me on my own. The gaggle does improve the odds of finding lift, but around here that's not normally a problem. Yesterday I flew the gaggle for the first 1/4 of the flight, then on my own after that, although I kept crossing paths with the gaggle as the day wore on. I made one good tactical decision to stay upwind over some rising terrain, that's what made the difference at about the 130K mark--most of the lead gaggle went down. Chrigel did whatever he does, I didn't see him all day but must have landed within 5 K of him.

Manilla XC comp day something

Turns out I did better than I thought the last comp day, doing OK in this comp. Scoring here is a bit of a mess, the server system isn't working, so no real scores but I'm doing OK overall. Chrigel is winning for sure, but beyond that it's fairly open. I didn't have the best flight yesterday, ended up being overly conservative about a big cloud and landing pretty far out. Nice to land somewhere totally peaceful, then have a bit of an adventure hike out to a farmhouse. Found the ranch owner, Grant, and a couple of hands gearing up to fix fences. I didn't have anything else to do and one of them was heading into a town in a few hours, so I spent the afternoon fixing fences and driving around the ranch with them. I didn't fly well, but the afternoon sure was fun--people here are really good. Very well travelled too, these guys had been all over the world, fun to talk about Oz and the world while bouncing around. Got to chase some sheep around too, nice to have a sort of "normal" day of it after all the travel and flying. Sometimes the best part about flying is not the flying but the random stuff that happens on the ground. Saw lots of wallaroos and kangaroos, they're like deer here (they even jup in front of cars too, all the vehicles here have 'roo bars up front for a reason). Thanks to Grant and Steve for the lesson in fence technique and the ride into town, hope to see these guys in Canada one day.

Not sure how everybody did yesterday, but all safe. Today doesn't look stellar, but we'll see, you never know. A lot of the World's pilots are showing up, the energy level is rising for sure. Me, I'm thrashed after flying over 25 hours this week but psyched to get it on today. The biggest thing to remember here is sunscreeen--two coats in the morning, one in flight, same with the lips. If I lived here I'd have to get a genetic mutation toward some aboriginal coloring, I'm way too damn white to survive.

Woke up in the middle of the night last night because a couple of possums had decided to stage an Ultimate Fighting Championship on the roof of our trailer. Not sure who won, but they are noisy beasts when irate. Off up the hill now.

Day four Manilla XC

I woke up and hit my head on a window sticking out of the trailer, then spilled some coffee and then forgot some stuff. In the air this pattern continued--I can normally keep my wing open, but I think the head-rattler made me more stupid than usual, the first half of the flight was an exercise in patience and self-tolerance... The second half was sort of the same but with slower thermals. In the end I went about 173 despite having one of the more "stupid" days I've ever had in the air. My goal became simply to stay in the air until 6:30, everytime I tried to make a move I ended up low and grovelling...

The evening drive back was the best part of the day, Oz sure is a stunning country. Saw lots of Kangaroos (yep, they really do exist in the wild, not just on the tourist T-shirts...) and other animals. It's an odd landscape here, everything is just slightly different. It reminds me most of east Texas in terms of terrain, lots of trees but stil very arid. It's wetter around Manilla than to the west, every day the climbs have really improved once we get through a relatively wet area about 50 K to the west of launch.

Up the hill to do it again now. I've flown almost 20 hours in my last three flights, starting to feel that, but in the World's we could fly six days straight so I want to train up for that.

WG

PS--had a good dry tooling session on a local swing set the other evening, I may have the only ice tools in Manilla. Elbow holding up, not going hard on it but finding little bits of time to train here and there. Looking forward to a rest day...

Manilla XC Comp

Apparently Eva's wild ride in the sky made the news around the world. I was in the air that day, but choose to go land early. It's a competition, but responsibility for safety rests with the pilots. It was dead obvious that conditions were totally out of hand--if I were free-flying I would landed earlier, but at some point reason still kicked in. About ten pilots were flying about 5K from me (toward the storm cell), I was pretty surprised to see them there. Apparently of these ten only a few hundred meters decided who got sucked up and who didn't (the organizer has the track logs). A Chinese man died, Eva lived. I hope all of us in the air use the experience to think carefully about what's actually important to us as pilots and humans.

Yesterday was epic, with many, many pilots going over 200K. I had a decent day until I got stuck low for an hour, which allowed the field to catch me. Ended up landing with the pack at about 220K, lots of good flying fun. This place is awesome.

The protest was resolved, I've pasted the text below. I was on the protest Jury, and the discussion was a long one. I felt strongly that conditions on the first day were safe--those of us who flew North made a bad decision. Many pilots flew south, where they had a fine day. The premise of this competition was open distance with pilots choosing their own lines, which means the organization has no responsibility for pilot decisions. Many of the pilots here are used to flying in competitions, where the organizers make a decision about course safety. With no official course line there is no chance to make a decision on the safety of it. Still, it has to be recognized that a large percentage of the field, myself included, did not make a great decision by going North...

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Protest text (slightly different than final but close enough)
Re: Protest, 2007 Manilla XC Open

The protest brought to the organizers was just about the first day of competition, but it raises much bigger questions. This XC competition is based on the idea that pilots will take responsibility for their safety in the air. A tragic fatality and a several near-fatal situations on the first day prove that pilots need better guidance. The ultimate responsibility always rests with the pilot as described in section 7 of the FAI sporting code, but:

To improve pilot safety in future tasks the organizers and protest jury have decided on the following:

All future tasks will be along a defined course line. This will allow organizers and the safety committee to more closely monitor conditions, and also to set a line in the best possible direction for the day. In the event of a missing pilot this will greatly increase the odds of finding the pilot, as well as keep pilots looking out for each other in the air. Distance will be measured at 90 degrees to this course line. Pilots must still make good decisions about flying around hazards and thinking of retrieve, the course line only sets the general direction for the day.

The task may be stopped by the meet organizer or safety committee if the conditions on the course line are judged unsafe. Scoring will be done 10 minutes prior to the stop time. This encourages pilots to get out on course early.

Pilots will also have the opportunity to express their opinion of the day's flying at the mandatory evening check-in time by marking "Safe" or "Unsafe" on the check-in form. If more than 20 percent of the pilots believe the conditions were unsafe then the day will be cancelled. It's important to note that this puts a large amount of responsibility on the pilots to make an honest and sporting judgment on the day. This system has tested in some German meets, we will test it here now. Even pilots who do not launch must write a check-in form.

Tonight's check-in form will also have spaces to mark "safe" or "unsafe" for the first two tasks. If the majority of pilots mark the first or second task as "unsafe" then they will be cancelled. If 20 percent or more pilots mark the third or any future task as "unsafe" then it will be cancelled.

We hope that the above system will improve pilot safety.

Hans Bausenwein
Steve Ham
Stefan Mast
Will Gadd
Andreas Reik

Manilla XC Comp and Worlds

I'm in Australia for two big paragliding competitions: The Manilla XC, which is a cross-country style competiton, and then the World Paragliding Championships. Yeah! Strange to go so suddenly from winter to full-on Australian summer, but the birds, sun and grass are great to see. Not much green here because Oz is in the midst of a seven-year drought worse than anything in memory--of course, as soon as we show up to fly there are thunderstorms and torrential downpours... We're staying at the River Gums Caravan Park in Manilla, a fine place to base with very friendly owners. A lot of campgrounds aren't so nice, this one is very clean and well-organized, a good scene for sure.

The first day of the Manila XC was eventful. There are no defined "tasks," just go XC, so it was a question of which way to go off of launch. I choose to go with the horde heading north, but the sky was tending toward thunderstorms. This tendency soon became a reality, and at about 55K I decided enough was enough. I know what thunderstorm inflow (air being sucked laterally and up into the thunderstorm) feels like--smooth, wide-spread areas of lift with a strong flow toward the thunderstorm. There were pilots closer to the big cells than I was, and I wrestled for a moment between my competititon psyche and the obvious safe thing to do, which was land. I choose to land, no competition is worth the ultimate risk, especialy a competition where only your best four days of eight count. I landed with some other pilots and soon had a ride back to the main road, then a ride to town in the local school bus. People here a super friendly and proud of their country, it makes for a nice landing situation.

Yesterday, day two of the comp, was excellent. We flew west, and I had the great good luck to be flying with two of Europe's top piots, Stefan Wyss and Chigrel Maurer. Chigrel has won the PWC twice, and Stefan is right there as well. We flew together for a few hours, and the experience really changed my view of paragliding. These guys glide so damn well, and just move around in the sky like nothing I've ever seen. I need to use more speed bar on the glides, and choose my glide lines carefully. I've done well in Canadian and US comps over the years, this is another level of flying for sure. Today I talked with them about the flight, and again learned a lot. I made about 100K yesterday, Chigrel did 130. He did that by flying faster on the glides, gliding more effeciently, and choosing his climbs well. Sounds simple, but until you see it in action, well, I'm pretty psyched to have learned so much.

There were several very wild tales of thunderstorm adventure from the first day. One pilot was sucked up to about 7,000M, where she passed out while the glider and her continued to climb to around 9900M. That's way above Everest's height, crazy. She spent around an hour doing circles above 9000M while unconscious, then descended enough that she woke up somewhere around 7000M. She was covered in ice, with serious frostbite on her ears and leg, but amazingly the glider was still flying despite being coated in ice. She landed it, and after a trip to the local hospital is doing just fine, all things considered. Unfortunatley another pilot did the same thing and died. Today, the third day of the comp, is cancelled out of respect for the situation. Both pilots who got sucked up are very competent by all reports, but perhaps let the compettion psyche over-rule their best judgement. I have always been much happier on the ground wishing I was in the sky than in the sky wishing I was on the ground. I've also seen explosive over-development a lot in Texas, there are some similarities here.

The style of this comp is meant to be more "open" just fly far and make good decisions, but it's clear after the first day that not all pilots will make those decisions in a competition situation. It's human nature to push in a competiton situation, but here we're expected to make good judgements about the conditions. There's a protest from the first day about the wild conditions not being suitable to the North, but some pilots flew South and did just fine, although they battled more of a head-wind. I'm on the protest committee somehow so can't write in-depth about this, just say that there is an intense philosophical discussion about what pilots will do if left to their own devices, and what the organizers should do for safety for the pilots. I'll write more about that once the committee makes a decision, it's a tough question beyond just the rules of the comp, which are that pilots are responsible for their own decisions on course (which there isn't technically).

Today is a good day to catch up on writing I've neglected, so working on that and enjoying a down day after the hectic travel and set-up (phones, drivers, somehow comps get really busy despite only actually flying a few hours each day). Keith, Nicole and I are the Canadian Team, but we're also here with Tom McCune, who would be flying if his glider weren't somewhere in North America still. He and Nicole are off flying today, while Keith and I are recovering from yesterday's near six-hour battle across the wind and around storms, it was taxing but one of the best days of flying I've ever had.

WG

Elbow and training

Elbow tendinitis is one of those issues all serious climbers have to deal with sooner or later. I've done battle with it off and on for literally 25 years. I think what always kept me from developing really serious problems was my "off" season, when I would go kayaking or paragliding for at least a couple of months. This allowed some degree of rest, or at least very different motions. I often felt like I was losing all fitness during this period, but usually came back within a month or so to near-peak fitness. In '06 I had a strong mixed season that, due to poor conditions for flying, went straight into a hard rock season. I was climbing rock as hard as I have in 10 years, and training hard for that. I did have some rests of up to four days, but climbed hard consistently at least once a week and normally three to four days a week. At the US Paragliding Nationals I still managed three days of hard climbing in eight days--that was about the biggest "rest" I had.

I was also doing a lot of yoga and hand-stand pushups, both of which put tremendous torque on the lower arm's flexors. In Ashtanga yoga you do a lot of "swing" throughs from standing to sitting with your legs in front of you in an L-sit and then back through your arms to a push-up position. I'm not very flexible, and think the "jerkiness" of this movement for me likely stressed an already stressed common flexor tendon. I also got to the point in my handstand pushups where I was starting to balance through the movement rather than just keep my feet on the wall; this also put a lot of stress on the common flexor tendon in my elbows. I then beat the hell out of my elbow on the Yamnuska multi-pitch project--climbing, hauling, cleaning, it all also adds up. Looking back, I was just hammering on my elbows. They both hurt a little, but I've dealt with that in the past with changing up my climbing style, and then also taking that big "off season" break for flying or paddling. On the Yam route my left elbow started to hurt not only while climbing but while living; picking up frying pans, moving rocks (did some landscaping in there as well), but I pushed through it to get the Yam route done. I don't regret that decision, but sure has cost me this fall and early winter. In retrospect, I wish I had taken a month off after the Yam route, but I tried to keep training at lower intensities. Doing too much on the elbow flexor was the first problem, then not accepting the problem and dealing with it was the second big problem. I'm still paying for that decision...

I've been going into Calgary having James at Adjust Your Health work on my elbow. It's not all flowers getting Active Release massage work done (in fact, some of the movements are among the more engaging sensations I've ever felt), but James can pinpoint issues in my elbow and work on both the immediate problem and also the surrounding structural issues. The relief from these sessions is fairly immediate; next day the elbow hurts, but not in that "tendon" way, more of a, "Damn, what just happened?" way. The tendon pain has been steadily decreasing in "sharpness" and overall severity. The acid test is, believe it or not, washing my face. This morning I washed my face pain-free, which was pretty cool. ART doesn't seem to be the immediate cure, but it's the first thing I've tried where the line of improvement/not is slowly up, so I'm going to keep doing that. I can actually feel the crunchy bits in my tendons releasing as James works on them, bizzare but also cool.

I've resisted the full-on drug route as I am pretty careful about what I put into my body. In my twenties I did a lot of anti-inflam drugs for finger issues, those only really resolved themselves when I stopped taking NSAI drugs. NSAIDs are great for symptoms, but I don't think they help much with the actual causes of the problems in the long term.

I went to the gym last night for the first time in a month and did a solid core session then some very light pulling motions in addition to the normal gentle rehab exercises. By really light I mean five pound weights, which isn't very macho. Today the elbow feels better than it did yesterday, so gentle, gentle, I do NOT want to the improvement line to stop trending upward... I've also modified my yoga session to reduce force on the elbow (no swing throughs to seated, limited downward beeyotch) over the last three months, that seems to be helping, and no hand-stand pushups at all. I've been running, skiing and generally beating around in the mountains a fair amount so I feel aerobically fit, but the upper body isn't what it used to be. It's hard to watch muscle atrophy, but at least I have some hope...

I'll make sure I take at least a month or two off in future seasons, I really believe that's critical for healing both body and mind. Patrick Edlinger used to take a month or two off every season to ski, I think he had that idea right.

24 hours of Sunlight

So I got home yesterday after destroying myself with about 5,000 feet of aerobic purification and celebrated by lounging on the couch with a glass of good scotch. Or two. I was checking out ski randonee race stuff (no plans for a career switch, but interesting) when I started following the Sunlight 24 hours race. Canada's Greg Hill was going hard at about 5:00, and every once in a while I'd check in. After I ate dinner and he'd knocked out around 20,000 vert. As I was getting ready for bed he'd done around 30,000. This morning, after I'd had a nice sleep in a soft bed he was pushing 45,000. He's now one run away from hitting 50,000 of vert in 24 hours. I felt pretty hedonistic, Greg was getting FULL value out of 24 hours. He had some good competition from an adventure racer named Eric Sullivan, but in the wee hours Greg stomped a few runs to eventually get a lap up on Eric. I can only imagine the effort it must have taken to do that. Now it's 10:00 and Greg is one run out from 50,000 vertical feet up and 50,000 down. Barring total collapse, he's got it done. Now that's an accomplishment--most people probably don't ski 50,000 vert in a season. Damn.

Race results are live here.

Sunshine 5000

Today I went and "raced" in the Arc'teryx Sunshine 5000, a randonee ski tour race up at Sunshine. I did this race last year, and despite not having done all that much (OK, OK, one backcountry tour and two days in ski areas is closer to "no") skiing this year I ended up on at the start line wiht somewhere around 35 other people. Right away it was clear that there were some "real" competitors there--Lycra suits, Scarpa "race" boots with tele-style "bellows" for easier flex on the up sections, special packs with a loop and a hook thing to hold skis and some other techno-wizadry I didn't get to see as it went uphill really fast while I didn't. I just like huck-a-lung events, something about roasting your body and mind sure is, well, not fun but invigorating sort of. Before I get into the blow-by-blow of I'd like to thank all the volunteers who worked on the event--I didn't ski by one without a, "Give 'er!" or better, thanks for that.

This year's course was definitely closer to 5,000 feet of up and a similar amount of down. I don't know how to work my watch to figure the exact vert out, but the course basically involved skiing up all of Sunshine's main lifts and down 'em with some boot-packing thrown in. I've been running a fair amount and skate-skiing some so I thought that would provide a good aerobic base--I was right about the aerobic part, but neglected to actually train my hip flexors or quads. This proved unfortunate; I keep having to get up while typing this to stretch some part of my legs out, I didn't know legs could vibrate in such odd ways. It's cool to have something that hurts worse than my elbow though...

The scenic highlight of the day for me was skinning up to the top of Lookout Mountain with the peaks all firing away in the sun. It was a damn fine day to suffer. The physical highlight was one turn coming down Fat Daddy (or whatever it's called). I was going way too fast and thought about just sliding it out on my side to resolve the situation, but leaned over and dug the edges into the snow and somehow railed through the crud like I knew what I was doing. I'm a survival skier, but with locked-down heals and some fatter skis it's a whole new world. I love it when situations that don't seem resolvable somehow do, that's a lot of what makes these sports so much fun. I'll remember that one turn for a while and try to do some more. Skiing rocks.

For most of the race I was battling back and forth with a Lycra dude. He'd pass me on the ups with aerobic skill and good form, I'd use spastic survival skiing and aggression to get ahead of him on the downs, repeat. It got to be pretty fun in the way that only a good mini race within a race can be, thanks to him for that (never did get his name, good guy). On the second to last climb my right and then left quads started to really cramp up; I've never had leg cramps before, I think playing hours of pond hockey on Thursday night might not have been a good idea. I adopted a weird thrutching movement to maintain some forward movement, which became more complicated as my hamstrings decided to join the general protest. The next down was just quad-lacerating, which I dealt with by straight-lining in an effort to either crash or get it over with as fast as possible. I didn't crash.

At the finish line I collapsed in the snow like a sack of, ah, take your pick of substances. It sure was fun. I mean that--it's one thing to go hard while mountaineering or on your own, but you never truly know how hard you can push until you actually race with other people. I went as hard as I could, and it felt good. The awards party was good fun, a free beer and tons of schwag. If you entered this race you got a prize, thanks to all the companies who threw in for that. A guy from Crusted Butte (Ethan?) kicked ass and won the rig in an hour and a half. The top woman was only about 25 minutes behind, fine effort. I was a bit behind that. A bit covering a fair amount of time. No link up yet for the results, but check the Alpine Club of Canada's site.

The awards are where excuses get made and criticisms leveled. I don't really have any excuses that don't sound totally lame, nor criticisms. The day was stunning, the course challenging and the overall vibe really good. I'm going to race next year if I'm in town, but this time I'm going to train. John Irvine, a bud at Arc., has promised to race next year, I'm throwing down the gauntlet. He worked the course this year and seemed to enjoy it as I skied by at top of the second to last climb, which I thought was the last. I topped out and realized that there was one more to go, and all I could say was the obvious, "Oh, @$@$!" He said, "Hey, let's hear a more positive attitude!" Next year buddy, next year, grin.

WG

PS--Sean won the "Climber's division," with Jeff in there as well. Good work. and if you want to see something truly sick, check out the nutters down in Colorado racing in a 24-hour suffer fest... Go Greg!

Travel Beta

A friend of mine recently dropped me an email asking for some long-distance travel beta, I wrote the following while riding the a.m. coffee buzz. It's mainly aimed at Canadians using Air Canada but will work for any travel situation. It covers the basics: Where to sit on the plane, dealing with jet lag and customs.

General Seating Notes: Window seats on the left going to Europe so you can check out Baffin/Greenland and the Arctic. Reverse on the way home, try and avoid being over the wing so you have a better view. Amazing, stunning panorama when it's clear, which it is a lot. I like the bulkhead seat forward if I can get it. Exit rows can be good too, but are often over the wing. Wear a hoody, bring noise-canceling headphones and music. I have the Bose, they're expensive but worth it. The QC2 are better than the QC3, block more sound. I try to always meet the person in the seat next to me no matter how much they look like a person I'd avoid normally, I've made some good contacts this way. But some people confuse proximity with intimacy and will talk your head off. Deal with the annoyingly talkative person by pulling your hoody over your head, turning up the music and making facial tics while mentioning something about altitude and brain issues. You'll be left alone.

Jet Lag: Easier going west than east until you get to about Japan, then it doesn't much matter, you're hooped. Here's the tried and true Gadd system:

Any direction: Drink water before you get on the flight, then a liter for every four hours in the air. More than this and you're in the bathroom too much, doesn't seem to help. Less than this and you'll add dehydration to your problems. Consistent liquids are important, drinking a liter at a time doesn't work. If you're going to drink alcohol do it immediately and heavily, then fall asleep just like normal. Do not drink coffee until the end of any flight. When you get on the flight notice if it's full or not--usually it is these days, but sometimes there will be open rows. Wait until the cabin attendants start closing bins, then pull a sprint into an open row, act agressive and dangerous if anyone is even thinking about sharing your row. Take your shoes off and put them on a vacant seat in the row, start slobbering, whatever it takes to defend that space.

Sleeping: Assuming you haven't managed to snake a fully vacant row, which is pretty rare, the bulkhead window seat is the best. The tray table flips out of the arm rest and slides pretty far forward, put your carry-on bag on it as a pillow and sleep. Best sleeping position outside of the Rich class up front, I've managed a solid seven hours of REM sleep with this system. Otherwise bring a warm jacket on board, put that on over the hoody when the pilot drops the temperature to sedate the cattle, steal some pillows to fill the gap between the seat and the wall, lean in and zonk. Works pretty good. Aisle seats are really bad for sleeping in--you get woken up every time the pregnant lady (justifiably!) needs to visit the bathroom and everytime the fat bastard wanders up the aisle like a drunken sumo wrestler and slams his ass into your head without even realizing it.

Going East to Europe: Stay up late the night before you leave dealing with last-minute issues. Get on the flight surly and tired--it's important NOT to be all well-rested or you won't sleep. If you don't fall aspleep immediately drink two-four glasses of wine or scotch immediately. Fall asleep for the first four hours. Wake up, check out Greenland if it' s on, if not go back to sleep. If you're flying into Heathrow recognize that you've really blown it and start drinking when you wake up, it's the only way to deal with that hell-hole. Frankfurt is better to connect through by FAR. Sleep on the second flight, usually short. You'll likely arrive either tired and hung over or having slept a lot if Greenland wasn't happening. Either way, you know what to do with a lousy morning, nothing new here. Drink coffee and water until about 13:00, then make sure you have something to do--go walking, get into an argument with an Israeli or German, but you've got to keep moving or will fall asleep. Drink your first Red Bull now. Drink another RB with alcohol around 17:00. It's like an elephant getting attacked, you've just got to keep your momentum up. You'll feel confused, wired and likely be able to make it to at least 23:00 before totally crashing, wake up the next morning good to go. It works for me.

Going west (home from Europe): Easy, drink a coffee just before you land, a Red Bull ASAP when you land and as needed, make it to 23:00, sleep.

Asia: It's going to be a mess, but welcome the chaos. Sleep as much as possible on the flights, get off the last flight not knowing which way is up, drink Red Bull until it's 23:00 local, crash. I actually find Asia not too bad if you just immediately set your watch to local time and keep moving. Try running across a busy street for a quick adrenaline hit, works for me anywhere in Asia. Get a moto-taxi ride and offer the driver an extra $5 to haul ass down the busiest street in town, no way in hell you're sleeping after that. Most big Asian cities have some sort of fight event every night; these will absolutely keep you awake. Seek out the weird sections of town, keep walking no matter what. If you arrive at midnight stop drinking coffee/RB at least six hours before landing (you'll know this because set your watch to the destination time immediately when getting on the last flight). Sleep as best you can, then follow the plan for day one for the first full day in the country. Do not sleep, extreme measures as listed above may be called for.

Most novices make the error of not fighting through the tiredness when they arrive in the new time zone and give in to a nap, which screws up their sleep patterns. Do not do this, it's weak and you will pay. If you wake up at 3:00 a.m. local just lie there and rest. Don't stress about not sleeping, just chill out. You're likely actually wasted from the travel, often you can go back to sleep if you just relax in the nice bed and think about how long the next day is going to be and how it's dark and it sure is nice in bed.... Do not read, do not get up, just chill.

Credit Card: CIBC Aerogold Visa, Air Canada is still the dominant airline. CIBC is a PITA, pay on-line so they don't dick you with "late" charges. I hate them but they are the only credit card that links to Air Canada.

Upgrades: Buy "B" class tickets if possible, these can be upgraded if you're an Air Canada Elite with upgrade certificates. Often don't cost much more...

Customs: ALWAYS stay behind the Red/Yellow line until they wave you forward. Have your passport, declaration slip, etc. completely organized, and hand it to them with the correct page turned their direction and open so they don't have to futz. Take two minutes to straighten your clothes and generally present an "organized but tired guy coming off a flight" rather than, "Dope fiend strung out waiting for next fix" look. Do not wear sunglasses, remove your hat, show you're paying close attention to them and not seeing through them to your destination. Indecision and confusion are clear signs you're hiding something, take two minutes on the flight to know what you are doing in the country you are visiting and came from, what you have in your bags, where you are going, why. Know what you have to declare, write that on the paper with specific values for each item if there's room. Be prepared and everything will go smoother. If you make an error on the form show regret, don't blame the "stupid" form. No matter what stay relaxed and "open" with your body language and manner. Act like you really want into the country but don't know the rules, 'cause you don't. Do not use slang, do not use big words, do not make political comments of any sort. Don't be subservient, guards smell blood, just act like this is a professional environment and doing the job well is important to you. A lot of people act like customs is a "stupid formality;" this is true to some extent, but to customs officials it's their job and they are damn serious about doing it well, try to meet that mental state head-on and you will be so far ahead of the average clown that you'll skate through. I've watched so many people show up at customs with loose gear sticking out of their bags, no passport in hand (what the hell did they think they were going to need at the little window???), sunglasses and hats on, bad attitude. I'd say customs was justified in sending these fools into the back room.

Canadian Customs: Say "Good morning," (or whatever) look them in the eye, smile, follow their lead. I haven't been stopped once in about 100 trips through there.

US Customs: Look them in the eye, but pretend they are your proctologist and you have bowel cancer. Sometimes they will relax right away, follow their lead. Do NOT make any jokes until they do, then laugh if they do. It's like US customs inspectors have two settings--one is all friendly and you're the football bud from high school, the other is pissed off, failed prison guard. You don't know what you're going to get. Overall US customs is casual, but follow the inspector's lead closely. Know the visa/stamps in your passport well, especially if you've been to any "suspect" countries (any country other than Canada and the US), and be prepared to answer a question about why you found it necessary to visit a communist country such as Norway...

Above all, never, ever lose your cool. You can be seeing red, but as soon as you express that logical and fully justified emotion every travel employee opens the, "how to deal with problem travelers" scenario sheet they've been trained in and you will get no respect and nothing done. But do be prepared to be persistent, especially with upgrades or baggage problems. Just smile, keep saying nice but clear things, sooner or later you'll often end up with what you want simply because you didn't melt down and kept standing there or trying other agents until the agents started to get annoyed and it became easier to solve the problem than fight it... Always smile and say hello/good morning to every person in the travel game, I'm always amazed by how much some basic courtesy will solve huge problems. Be human, travel is inhuman but connecting with the people in the game on a human level changes the paradigm for everyone. Ooooohmmmmm...

Happy travels.

If you paddle whitewater check this out

Or even if you don't, just a great tale!

Nutters. May we all get a day or two like this in our lives.

Elbow, Climate Change

Well, there's been a change in treatment on the elbow. I had some deep Active Release Therapy done last week and am going in today and Friday for more. Thanks to everyone who wrote in about different elbow treatments, I'm trying the ART route. My elbow was pretty sore over the weekend, but feels different today--less sharp pain, more just sore. I'm hoping different is good, I'll write more about this as it progresses. I'm getting the work done in Calgary, thanks very much to Keith and now James at Adjust Your Health for organizing the sessions. One thing I'm very happy with is the knowledge base James has--he can isolate tendons and muscles in a way I've never seen/felt before, and communicate what he's doing. After a fair amount of ultrasound and other treatments I'm a bit skeptical on the whole treatment program, so I'll withhold judgement until I see results, but something is different for sure.

Here's an interesting article on what affect jet and other pollution is having on our atmosphere. Nine Eleven took all the jet traffic out of the sky in North America for three-five days, these guys did some interesting research that's counter-intuitive..

The interesting part is that particulate in the air from jets and other pollution has been causing "Global Dimming," or reducing the amount of sunlight that hits the ground. At the same time there has been "Global Warming," which is primarily caused by greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide. The wild thing is that "Global Dimming" may have been dramatically reducing the effects of the carbon dioxide and global warming; if we get better at reducing particulate in the air then global warming may accelerate like crazy... The last third of the article is the most interesting. I'm not convinced that the models of global warming are "accurate," but I am convinced that throwing truly massive amounts of new variables into the atmosphere is a really bad idea. I look at it like a very old bridge that no one really knows the strength of--it might be fine with massive semi-trailers driving across it, or might not, but testing the theory with buses full of school kids first probably isn't such a good idea. In my experience, messing with the natural world is pretty much guaranteed to produce some sort of result, but maybe not the one we predicted. Dams to do flood control for farmland do indeed stop floods, but also end up dramatically increasing the salt concentrations on the un-washed lands downstream... There is no doubt that humans are messing with the atmosphere on a scale never seen before, the question is what' going to happen. I'm pretty sure we'll be living in interesting times climatically within the next 20 years or so, I just don't know what form of interesting it's going to be.

Best,

WG