Ajaccio Area - Vero
    The morning is very clear with only scattered clouds. Those who didn't fly yesterday impatiently build wings, in spite of the chilled morning air reliably flowing down form the mountain and leaving us nothing to do but wait.



    Around noon the warming of the southeast slope beneath the starting ground begins to finally work and it's possible to take off. The occasionally forming small wisps have a southwesterly down pull and the starting ground finds itself in a wind-shielded recess. Now even the others are building their wings, while the first three get to taking off. Starting on a slope this steep is no problem, worse is trying to catch a drift. All are battling above the sunlit cliffs, Vlada even flies far around the corner. But he's back in a short while, without having gained any altitude there. In not quite fifteen minutes all are gradually dropping off deep in the valley at the landing ground by the intersection.



    It's just too early and it's necessary to wait it out. In not quite an hour the wind indicators above the crest begin to fill out and the signs of thermic activity on the starting ground are visibly stronger. Honza starts off, but after 15 minutes of hearty battle , he's down as well. The rapidly forming cloud cover is beginning to be pushed in front of the starting ground by a weak southwest streaming and begins to shadow the decisive upper sections of the crest. The wind indicators turned downward and it was all over. Mila gave in to pessimism, got into the car and drove down for the others. Milan and I remained alone. We move to the start with our wings and attentively watch the evolution above us. The pushed in cloud cover fortunately breaks up, but another is continuously forming. The entire valley is in the sunshine except for the highest part of the crest, which is the decisive factor for taking off in a wind recess. The way the evolution of cloudiness is going makes it clear that there must be a riser directly in front of the starting field. However, with a wind of 2m/s at my back I would have to run at least 50km/h, and that's just not possible.



    Suddenly the streaming stops and the windsleeves go limp, hanging without movement. This has to be my moment. I bound halfway across the starting ground with seven-mile leaps and after taking off leave the slope unnoticed behind. I head out into space ahead of the starting ground. After a while I really do fly into an area with a mild rising and patiently climb. The downdraft is beneath the level of the crest, to the southeast, and pushes me back towards the slope. I finally have the altitude of the starting ground again and with every turn I study the antennas of the transmitter tower, which stands at the starting ground at a relative closeness, a different story with each turn. The best view is of course of the three that are mounted vertically at the very top of the tower. But even these disappear beneath me after a while.

    Down at the start, Milan breaks away from the slope and begins to hunt out in space. He won't have an easy time of it as even the weak rising there was to begin with has noticeably weakened even more. I leave him to his fate and head inland over the cliffy and, for now, sunny part of the crest. I reach it at a miserable operating height, but after several kicks directly above the crest I have a relatively good core and evidently don't have to head for the landing ground just yet. After several minutes of circling I finish turning a base at an altitude of 1220 meters and go out farther from the crest, over the valley. A small puff has begin to form, and before I reach it, it has become a tiny cloud just at my altitude. I put the bar on full hands and at high speed I horizontally tear through the cloud through its middle. The fly-through takes about three seconds and I immediately look back to see what's happened to it. Absolutely nothing. It looks as though I hadn't even been there.




    Meanwhile, Milan, beneath the starting ground, is losing altitude and heading along a small crest over the landing ground in the middle of the valley. So I fly over him to watch his landing. The meadow is problematically angled for gliders and I would not like to repeat the mistakes of others, should they make any. In about five minutes we're both above the landing ground. By the smoke in the village and the big directional indicator on the meadow I see the wind is blowing swiftly up the valley. We cannot land on the angled meadow, and it ends in several houses. With the wind moving up the slight slope we can't go that way either. The speed of that kind of wind added to the landing speed of a glider is virtually suicidal. This is going to be interesting.

    Milan drops altitude in the shielded corner of the meadow. He prepares instead to land against the wind, but evidently intends to fit sideways into a small hill with bushes, which rises out of the edge of the landing ground. His landing speed is relatively high as he pushes it full hands and all the way up to me, in a few seconds, the crack can be heard. Well, so what, I'll have to do the same, but I'd rather do it without the impact. I drop down, and see that the little hill is truly the only possible place for a landing. But there seems to be livestock scattered about grazing on it. I come closer and see they are cows. Even closer and they have horns. And damn! At high speed I force it to the ground and right there is one of them staring at me. The hoofed beast evidently sees me but is not in the least put out. On the left are two others and on the right a bush. I choose the bush and paying the cost of the loss of my last bit of altitude tries to gain extra speed, which I intend to use for jumping the bush. I make out the thorns, - it's a blackberry bush or something. Speed reserve good so far. Right before the bush I push off, the bar successfully surmounting the obstacle and now just not to forget to quickly pull up my legs and I'm over the bush. A few more seconds and I'm on the ground. Cow patties everywhere. I certainly wouldn't want to roll about on the ground here.




    I discreetly leave the reach of the horned, and thankfully undisturbed, beasts with my wing, and while the others are up again, Milan and I slowly pack by the side of the road. In half an hour Honza comes for us and at 4p.m. we're back at the starting ground. Two wings are ready to fly again, but the low hanging March sun has long since stopped warming the valley and in the cooling air the moisture from the ocean begins to condense. Within ten minutes the entire valley is flooded in fog.

    We quickly pack, take an hour for eats and move more to the South in the direction of Propriano, where around the city of Olmeto we intend to find a new starting ground tomorrow. Looking for a campsite in the dark today is a bit more difficult, but we finally set up our tents on a beach near the village of Porto Polo at co-ordinates N41°42.804' E008°48.981'. After yesterday's very cold and, but for that, quiet , night it's the roar of the ocean waves again 'til morning.