12/12/2007 by Joe Smith.

Did anyone else read the comments added to Duncan’s post from Morrone last week and the subsequent article in the adventure blog? Did you wonder if you were really on the same hill? Full of tales of broken lines and ground handling errors. Advice heard by no-one but the head-honcho himself. Unseen maps and weather info. Saving a pilot by talking him down on the radio. Tales of heroic flying in wind shear that no-one else could have possibly survived - and not so much as a bead of sweat crossed his furrowed brow. Mmmm me thinks a certain canoeist isn’t the only one with selective memory problems. Certainly does make for interesting reading though and, personally speaking, I can’t wait for the movie.

Maybe I have a poor-ground handling doppelganger that was out defying gravity on Sunday. With both my and Iain’s recollections of the main events of the day seemingly at odds from those of the ’senior’ club member it would certainly appear so. Nothing new there then! Just for the record though - I didn’t actually break any lines due to bad ground-handling and certainly have no memory of being ‘advised’ not to set up there - unless of course you count ‘building a wall’ as ground-handling. In essence, while waiting to launch, the sheath on 3 lines was in fact damaged by a small sharp rock. End of story. It was an easy decision after that not to take off. So, it’s difficult to understand the motivation for the critical comments made in response to Duncan’s post. Butt covering perhaps?

Alas poor Iain however was not so lucky. He did indeed fall victim to a short scoot across the top of the hill. Granted, that part of the day is actually true. True, but not the full story. Unfortunately, because his ability sometimes takes a good kicking from his confidence, he does occasionally ask for a little assistance in high winds. Nothing wrong with that. Is there? Pity for him though that, this time, his ungainly assistant happened to trip when a large gust came through, which in turn caused him to land unceremoniously on his right buttock and be dragged 20 feet across the slope. Is that bad ground handling or just plain bad luck? However as we all know that was nothing new and nothing any of us haven’t been victim to, or seen happen to other guys both in the ESPC and other clubs. It really was nothing of consequence, considering that there are no sudden drops anywhere within 3 miles. Something we had checked ourselves before setting up - no advice needed, but thanks for offering.

Once he had picked himself up; dusted down his pride and dragged his hitherto unflappable self-esteem out from behind a rock, we talked briefly about a quick repack and fly down. But, being frequent flyers on the big tops, we had both been in situations like this before and knew from previous misadventures that it was time to call it a day. Adrenaline flunkies that we are, the decision was quickly made that the window of opportunity had long since gone and we jumped unceremoniously into the first truck back down. Yeah right! More accurately, discretion was putting up the fight of its life and kicked the shit out of valour, so in reality we just looked at each other and said what we should have said over an hour ago, ”feck this fer a game of soadyers. Let’s get out the £*&” of here before it really goes tits up! ‘Rather wisely as it turned out.

On a more serious note, what I do wonder is, why every single person who did launch on Sunday suffered at least 1 big collapse? Some reportedly took 3 or 4. So, I’m not too sure if it says as much about the skill of the pilots on the day; the inherent safety in modern wings, or if it was just plain good fortune that allowed survival in such adverse conditions. However, thankfully lady luck was smiling on them and everyone made it back safely and gratefully to mother earth. Allegedly Nairn’s first words on getting back to terra-firma were, ‘Does anyone want to buy a wing?’, ‘One careful owner, complete with harness, and pre-installed brown stain!’

On an even more serious note (For those that haven’t been paying attention, that’s two serious notes in one article. One more and it’s called a rant) there does seem to be a difference of opinions as to the cause of the problems. Call it what you will, rotor, wave, wind-shear, whatever. There were definite wave patterns over the cairngorms. I definitely saw 2 pilots being forced down in their initial attempts to get over the back. Yes, there was a lot less wind in the valley than higher up on the ridge. That tends to be a major feature of being in the lee-side of the hill. Personally, I reckon there were indications of all three. But, what do I know? Air-detectives make your own mind up.

Also, I wouldn’t imagine for a minute that ‘ he who wants to be obeyed’ would intentionally put anyone in harms way. However, the decision to allow a very low airtime pilot with less than a months experience to fly in such conditions of extreme wave and on the lee side of the hill in rapidly deteriorating conditions was, to say the least, questionable and it is hoped lessons will definitely be learned there. If that was not bad enough, to allow him to do so without a reserve 1500ft agl - especially considering he had as yet no knowledge of descent techniques such as ‘big-ears’ etc borders on incompetent. Apparently, at one point conditions were so strong that even with big-ears on the poor guy was still going up! Talk about throwing some one in at the deep end. Hope it hasn’t put him off flying? I can only imagine that allowing a pupil to launch in such unfavourable conditions was due to either a total miss-interpretation of or gross ignorance of air conditions. A worrying thought, either way you look at it.

When you consider that trying to teach a beginner how to do big-ears via the radio is hard enough but to do so in such extreme turbulence and rapidly failing daylight and then have them attempt steep 360 degree turns with big-ears pulled in to get down, it really does call into question ones sanity. What is even more staggering is, that having done so, to then claim credit for ’saving the day’ If I’m teaching someone to swim and throw them into a raging torrent and have to jump in to save them - am I a hero for rescuing them or a villain for putting them in harms way? Perhaps both? I can’t say I have ever been a big fan of these sink or swim techniques and can only hope that lessons will be learned and that student’s safety will, in time, be put before ego.

Although, despite appearances to the contrary, we are NOT actually paid up card carrying members of the ESPC club, Iain and I have always been happy to meet up when invited and have had many a good day with some of the guys in the club. After this post, I doubt that it will be happening again any time in the near future. However, it is hoped for the sake of safety, especially the fee paying publics’, that lessons from the day will be taken on board. Murray is a good instructor when he sticks to what he knows. As I’ve always said, ‘if you want to develop your ground handling Murray’s yer man.’ For everything else you have to make your own mind up.

Just a suggestion, perhaps actual training activities should be kept to smaller hills where local knowledge is greater and the conditions more forgiving. At least until the CFI has a little more experience on the larger hills.

Right I’m of in search of some new lines so I’ll just leave you with the thought for today.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing and can be a valuable learning tool when used constructively. And, for the more prosaic amongst us; when all around you seem to be flapping in the wind - Bugger of - sharpish!

See you on the dark-side.

Joe/Iain KMRT
(not affiliated to any paragliding clubs)

P.S I was going to include some photos of the day but everyone I looked at had Murray in them. How does he do that?

Posted in Club days in Aberdeenshire | No Comments »

30/03/2007 by Joe Smith.

After 3 weeks of solid rain, the old clyde puffer and myself having an extreme case of cabin fever and an even bigger case of red wine had had enough. No more talking the talk, we declared that, once again, it was time to walk the walk, fly the fly or, put  simply, feck-off and see if the big boys would let us play with them. But, where to go? What to do? A plan was needed. And fast.
    We had talked briefly about staying local, flying our usual sites in the Tarmachans or Killin, but fancied a wee change, and thought it high time we spread our wings a little further afield. So, we checked the forecasts, consulted Iain’s corns, looked out the window and said ‘ah feck it! It’s Scotland let’s take it as it comes.’ It did look like we would get  better weather the further north and west we went though. An easterly wind then pointed us in the direction of the White Corries. A place I’d had my eye on for a while. This was ok for me, but Iain reckoned that all those skiers watching us might just give him a dose of Murryitis and cause him to ‘fluff it’. That of course would be far too embarrassing for a couple of ‘cool dudes’ like what we are. With that idea then unceremoniously binned, a definite re-think was required. Discussing it over a quick phone call, we set out the challenge. The rules were simple. It had to be big. It had to be quiet. It had to be easy and, above all else, it had to have a pub within landing distance.
That left us with only one option. Beinn a chrulaiste, a big whaleback shaped lump of a hill lying directly behind the Kinghouse hotel.

  
Ben-Crusty! In my minds eye I could see the blog report now
Captains log: Start date 24 march 2007.
Your mission Joe (should you choose to accept it) To boldly go where no-one else can be arsed!
         

 But, hey-ho. A jump’s a jump as Mr Carr would say. So that was it sorted then, and on Friday, night phone calls exchanged to check who we could drag out and a wee note left on the forum to tease all those we couldn’t and off we went.
 

     Arriving in the Coe about 8:30 first port of call, after putting the tent up, (well, every drunk needs somewhere to stagger back to) was the ‘Kingy’, - reputedly scotland’s oldest Inn.

   
      As an aside, it has to be said that I am getting a wee bit worried about old parahandy. For years he’s been tighter than lycra on a ‘weegie’s’ arse. You know of whom I speak. You see them walking down Callander’s main street every Saturday, bag of chips in one hand, irn-bru in the other; legs like a bag of marbles. Now it seems he’s found the key to his purse strings and gone all para-dandy on us. Take Fri’ night in the bar for instance. Gone were the years of sitting quietly in a corner with a half pint shandy or a jug of 70 shilling reminiscing about bygone days when he was Scotland’s answer to Don Whillans. In were the bottles of Becks and budweisers! Combine that with a clean fresh shirt and there are definite undertones of a mid-life crisis.

      
        Last month also saw a nice new trendy Montane top added to his wardrobe and this month a new variometer. I reckon that’s just so he has something else to blame for the high pitched banshee type noises so often accompanying his take offs. I eventually did manage a bit of a snigger to myself on Saturday however when he left it switched on while walking up the hill. I always thought they were supposed to go Beep, beep, beep. Not ……Beep……………beep……………beep………..cup of tea….beep……change your top…………beep………..check the wind………beep………photo stop………….beep.

Joe Heads for the Bar

If you haven’t been there Beinn a chrulaiste is the hill lying just north of the  Kinghouse hotel. Our approach being from the track junction at the corner of the old road. The first 20 mins or so are a little on the boggy side as you cross the edge of the moor but, if you are careful, you might be able to pick out the remains of an old wall/path, which makes the going a whole lot easier. Follow the burn under the pylons to the mouth of Coire Bhlacach and from there turn left up the East ridge. There are one or two relatively easy take-of options on the lower third of the ridge but then it becomes a little more difficult and steeper with large outcrops until you reach the top third or so. Taking off anywhere near the summit is fairly straightforward. (Time to top 1hr 40ish with full kit)

  
        As it looked like being a fairly warm spring like day we had decided to take it easy in the morning and enjoyed a few caffeine kicks in the hotel lounge, trying to guess what the other 9 of the top 10 viewpoints in the world were apart from the one we were looking at. Sadly, Pamela Anderson sunbathing wasn’t on the list. Anyway we took our time wandering up the hill, timing our take off for late in the afternoon, once the sun had past its peak. This turned out to be a good plan as the wind had also died down slightly to a fairly steady 10/12mph and had veered more to the south just as we reached our planned take-off spot. Perfect.

   
             Site check completed, we both made sure the other had spotted the pylons lining the valley floor and did a quick estimate of how close we could get to the tents. Then we were ready to go. It was a fairly short runway, so I popped my wing up to feel the air and to give it a quick shake out, while Iain did his pre flight check and readied himself. Then a quick nod that we were both set and a few steps later I was in the air. A couple of quick scoots along the ridge to maximise any lift going and then turned back S.E heading for the old road next to the tent. Surprisingly, despite it being fairly late on, there was still plenty of thermal action to be had. If your not as heavy on your wing as me that is.
            As usual being about 10kg on the dark side there really isn’t much that’s going to keep me in the air for long other than a tow from a passing moon rocket. So, after about 10 min’s I found myself nicely coming in to land on the road, about 50m from the tent. Great, a quick pack-up, wander back to the tent and put a brew on. It’s not a bad life sometimes.

         
                After a few min’s sitting in the sun enjoying the views, there was still no sign of Iain, so I got the binoculars out, did a quick radio check and scanned the hill sides for him. Surprisingly, he was still at the launch site ‘ground-handling’ Though, through the bino’s it was hard to see who was handling the ground more. Him or his new Nova.  Watching the wing snaking around like that was a bit like watching a cobra on cannabis. About ten min’s later he managed to get it together and did a rather nice take of straight into the path of an oncoming express elevator. A few min’s more he was a very respectable 300m above launch showing absolutely no signs of coming down. Wee Bugger……..! 

         
               Well, after what seemed like an eternity, he eventually graced mother earth with his prescence once more, landing on exactly on the same spot as me. Well, with one small difference that is. Only one of us dropped his wing onto the Barb-wire fence. **/x!! That’s the owners of ‘The Loft’ mortgage paid for next month. Seriously, I hope there’s not too much damage auld yin.

And that folks as they say was that. Another cracking weekend in the big hills. Tune in next weekend for more feckless adventures.
 
Joe Smith (Kmrt Air corps)
Fly fast, fly hard and if you see us - fly away.
 
 
 
 
 Iain hovers over the moor
 

Posted in Mountain days | No Comments »

30/03/2007 by Joe Smith.

Posted in Uncategorised | No Comments »

19/02/2007 by Joe Smith.

‘Squaries at nine’ the text said. The gauntlet had been thrown and the challenge set. Get out of my pit before 10:30am. On a Sunday for goodness sakes! Good god in Govan, does the man have no respect for Sloth? There could only be one possible explanation for such an affront to Callander’s very own half-man half-mattress. Flyable weather was here again. BIG TIME!

Thankfully though, ‘squaries’ at dawn became fried eggs and 9:00am showed up, shame faced, and a fashionable 30 min’s late. Hence, a rather hurried breakfast, 3 coffees and a quick scan of every weather site available, looking for a forecast that ‘fitted’ where we wanted to go, and the dynamic duo (Fatman and Bobbin) were winding there merry way north.

Stopping en-route to our much haunted site the Tarmachan ridge, at the even more haunted Burger van, at the top of Glen Ogle, (Well? A mans got to eat!) we were pleasantly surprised to learn that some early birds from Edinburger had passed through, a few minutes before. I wasn’t too disheartened though, being secure in the knowledge, that in a few hours from now, if we managed to get some ‘serious height’, some burgers would also be passing through us! Not too worry- eh. L

Anyway, to cut a long story short we arrived at the top car-park, sorted out the kit, took a couple of deep puffs on the ‘go faster blaster’ and headed off, up the hill path to the south side of Meall-nan-Tarmachan. Winds on the way up were depressingly kind to us, feeling very little breeze until around 600m. We were rather more disconcerted however to see some small fluffy things high in the sky moving in the general direction of the wrong ‘effing’ way! Undaunted by this obvious mirage and blinded by our confidence that the great ‘Sky-God’ of Dundee would do a biblical ‘loaves and the fishes’ for us and turn the gentle breeze into a full blown Southerly, we bimbled on.

Gaining height inch by inch and humping our masochistic 40 pound packs, together with my marginally lighter gut, we tried to relieve the physical stress of the climb with some casual conversation. Iain remarked that he had popped into the shops the other day to check the price of a 20 pack of ‘fags’ that he used to smoke. £5.10 for 20. A quick calculation later we had worked out that if he saved this money, he could buy a ‘reasonably priced’ second hand ‘family sized’ wing every 3 or 4 months. “Aye”, says Iain. “I could justify that to the wife by telling her that I was only spending my ‘fag’ money.” “Plus, think of this. I could buy a brand new wing and tell her that it was due to stress and I’d increased the amount of fags I was giving up to 40 a day!”  Mr Broon your teas oot. My vote is for Ian to be the next  PM. You have to admit that with logic of that quality, ‘fears of Global warming’ would soon be reduced to ‘worries of being slightly tepid.’ Just think. We could even get back to good old fashioned winters that froze yer knackers of and 9/11 was something impossible to do without a calculator.

Ok.Ok Back to the flying I hear you say. Well, after about 45 mins we arrived at our chosen launch site. Which, for the anally retentive amongst us,( Is that someone who can hold their bladder for a year?)  would be Point 780m grid ref NN 590 380. For everyone else that’s about half way up the hill looking back down the ridge back to Loch Tay.

It would of course be nice at this point to say that, on the way up, we had had a positive and meaning-full discussion about MET winds, possible landing sites, developing thermic activity, escape routes, etc, etc, etc. Yes. Yes it would have been nice. But we don’t do nice. Do we? In reality, conversation centered on who’s turn it was to be wind dummy.

Obviously, in the face of Aristotle Aitchison’s unchallenging logic I lost, on account of his firm belief that the now respectable 14mph southerly wind would have little or no effect on me compared to him. Mainly, he argued, on account that I had the same aerodynamic efficiency as a fish supper. He might not be eloquent, but by shit, he is fast. Well, there was that and the fact that in times of high winds and sense of impending doom he has the unerring knack of decanting his wing just uphill from mine, leaving me in pole position.

 Having therefore reluctantly been dubbed ‘Numero uno’ on the run-away to Loch Tay, we had a couple of quick practices; loading the wing; building a wall; emptying the bladder and a few other stalling tactics. Then, I was off. 

I have to say that it was a remarkably easy take-off. Easy for me anyway. Normally, being quite heavy on my wing, I have to move faster than Murray avoiding Welsh site fees. This time though the wing was overhead in seconds and only two or three short steps later, so was I. Ye-ha!

Of Course, being as we are still relatively inexperienced and, as we had already agreed that we wouldn’t try anything fancy on the first flight, I headed straight out from the hill with the intention of doing a quick top to bottom. Then I hit a thermal. Ye-ha again! On the way down I also seem to remember taking a quick look around to make sure Iain had gotten of ok. Well, that or to laugh at the fact he hadn’t. Ye-ha-ha-ha! No mercy in this crowd folks.

Well as usual, a few mins later, I was bombing out.  I did try a couple beats back and forth over the landing site, concentrating on developing that all ellusive feel of the air you hear those xc boys talk about. That lasted a few mins more, then came in to an uneventful landing to wait on Iain joining me for the second trip. Which he duly did, 10 mins late as usual. I really must get him to eat more pies.

Anyway, I could bore you with details of the second walk up and a great wee second flight.  I could even talk of how we watched, inspired, to see how easily the other 4 guys (names unknown) soared around above Ben Ghlas and Tarmachan staying up for about two hours or more, but I wouldn’t want you to think we were unduly impressed or anything like that. Also I’m sure if I keep babbling Murray might impose a word limit on me, so I won’t bother. Therefore, I’ll just leave you to have a wee gander at some of the photos from today’s exploits and hope to catch up sometime soon on another ‘biggie’
Regards
Joe Smith KMRT(air corps)
Glossary: ‘Squaries’ – sausages that have been hit with a spade. Normally served on a roll at various roadside eateries, with Un-yins!  Unique to Scotland.
1^st flight 10 mins. Take of 780metres. Max speed 52km/hr. (Joe) Max Speed (Ian) 42km/hr

2^nd flight 15mins Take of 780 metres. Max speed 65km/hr( Joe) Max Speed (Ian) 45km/hr

Posted in Mountain days | No Comments »

08/02/2007 by Joe Smith.

A great day out in the ‘big hills’ with Murray Hay and Ali Duncan. Interesting, albeit totally uselss, information is that Schehallion was used in 1774 to measure the mass of the earth by taking measurements at various points of how much a pendulum was deflected from the vertical by the mass of the hill. These measurements when plotted and the points at the same altitudes joined gave rise to what we now know as O.S contour maps.

In the top left you should just be able to make out Murray heading towards landing site in front of the main carpark. Despite the conditions being rather on the light side for soaring and- other than relieving the odd itch inside the boxer shorts- didn’t show much in the way of decent thermal activity it was a really good day.  If you are planning to do the hill then its worth noting that the top 1/3rd is extrememly rocky with the summit consisting of a large bouldery ridge with very few options for decent take of. The best chances are probably on the lower half just about where the old path meets the ridge and most suitable for a N/Ne wind. NN 735 545.

The main car park is run by the forestry commission and is a popular picnic spot for walkers and tourists alike in the summer weekends. So I’d advise getting there early in peak season. Being the middle of winter and midweek however, I guess we were fortunate that there was only one other car in the car park and only one other walker on the hill. Rumour has it that he bumped into Murray on the way up and was last seen bimbling of down the ridge muttering like a demented Dalek: ” I must not join the BHPA….I must not joint the BHPA….”

Right I’m of to practice my nwxbdbrlfol* take of. Have fun.

Joe Smith

*(nil wind x brake double bounce reverse launch fall over laughing)

Posted in Mountain days | No Comments »