Up on the hill today's expedition divides into two camps. One sees the wind as strong and builds their wings by the lower elevation ramp. The others also think the wind strong but prepare to take off from the peak of the hill. Along with Norbert and David, I belong to the second camp and just to be sure we try to take off as quickly as possible.



    Catching on in this wind is absolutely free and soon we even find a strong thermal core, chopped up by the wind. The strongest rising is 9m/s announced by David and simultaneously a drop to 7m/s. This is really something and trying to hold the camera isn't at all easy. The clouds today form only over the highest peaks and at an altitude of 2000 meters it is freezing as usual. Visibility is very good and the snow on the peak of Monte Cairo has thawed noticeably in contrast to last week.



    Roughly an hour later the wind up high picks up considerably and swirls start popping up around the crests. I look around at the others, but so far no one is reacting. I tighten up my crossbar and head off across and away from the crest over the valley with the intention of landing before the wind gets too much stronger on the landing field. Too late. Both flags are taught with the wind and the windsleeve is thrashing from side to side. This is going to be interesting. I turn down and the turbulence increases. It's very difficult to maintain direction, descending evenly is absolutely impossible. The wing drops more than 10 meters only to be shot up again by the same amount. Remo Merruci is on the grass field teaching a student how to throw up the chute and both are being tossed around on the field by the wind. They leave off and, with heads down, watch the floundering paraglider above them. At least I can't see the expressions on their faces. "Yes boys, I'd trade places with you this instant", I say to myself and it's clear to me that I'm going to have big problems landing.

    Wind direction on the landing field is, as usual, perpendicular to the runway, but this time very strong and, judging by the fluttering windsleeve, it is of varying speeds. At this moment I see that it will be safer to try landing directly into the turbulent wind along the shorter side of the landing strip, if I can make it. It starts off with high trees and ends in a cement irrigation canal with three posts. In the event of a crash, the speed of the counter wind is subtracted from the speed of the wing and the outcome need not be so tragic. The tips of the trees at the edge of the landing strip are coming up fast and I try to hold the wing in the proper direction on the windward side of their crowns, because I'm expecting a sharp drop in speed closer to the ground and along with it a loss of altitude. At tree level, the wing jumps around and , as expected, drops almost to the ground, but thanks to sufficient reserve speed I'm still flying and able to steer. Just a jump over the last irrigation canal and I'm more falling than landing near the first tents. A sleepy Mirek, who has taken today off, comes out of one of them, as my noisy landing has awakened him. At any rate, it's over and I've landed in one piece.

    The landings of the others are dramatic as well. Norbert falls into the shrubbery at the edge of the landing strip on his last turn, while David plunges the nose of his glider into a deep irrigation canal. After we pull him out, some strange fluid drains from his wing for a long time, similar to a sewage stream. Vlada just barely misses the windsleeve pole, lightly grazes the tops of the trees and finally pulls off a precision landing. Zaboj, after being in the air for several hours, evidently no longer has strength left for a struggle with the wind and after brushing through the tops of the trees ploughs his wing straight into the ground. The consequences are not so tragic, however, two ploughed spring rows, a scraped nose and cut eyebrow. We found his glasses.






    Despite the strong wind and turbulence, we see Jirka, a former hangglider pilot who switched to a paragliding, take off from the upper runway. Evidently he still has the properties of a glider with its solid frame fixed in his mind, or he's a born daredevil. Personally I think it's the latter of the two. Of course, he can't make it against the strong wind and he's forced to land in the neighboring village of Caira. half an hour later he returns on foot, without a single scrape. There will surely be a lot of wine consumed by the fire this evening.