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.