Banishing the Foot and Mouth Blues

As we know, walking and rambling weren't the only casualties of Foot and Mouth last year, I'd barely passed my Club Pilot's exam when the sites were closed down and all flying was off. Fortunately the tasks had just been completed at Sussex HGPG (after a year or so trying) just before the crisis hit and I was able to take up the chance of going flying abroad.

So, with paraglider packed along with my newly purchased 'must haves': reserve parachute, variometer, 2-way radio, trendy flying suit etc. I met up with my fellow travellers at 5 o'clock on Monday morning at Gatwick for the flight to Spain. The first hurdle was passed: they accepted my 25-kilo plus rucksack without even weighing it (it was too big to fit on the scales). This was the point I discovered that my fellow paragliders had all been flying for longer than me - at least a year and some more - compared with my zero airtime post licence, this could be embarrassing!

We were picked up at Alicante and told by a depressed looking Trevor McLoughlin (the organiser of the trip and the person who had taken me through most of my instruction at the school) that the previous week's weather had been the worst he'd ever known it, only one big top to bottom flight in seven days: not a good thing to hear at the start of my hols. But the weather was looking much better now and Trevor said we had better take advantage of it! We dropped off our luggage, packed our gliders and dashed over to the cliffs at Santa Pola. Half an hour after landing I was in the air again, this time under my own wing (an Apco Fiesta) rather less substantial but much more fun!

I flew for my longest time ever, an hour and a half, up and down at "El Cabo" a three hundred foot high cliff stretching three or four kilometres along the coast. I had Trevor's reassuring voice in my ear occasionally to let me know he was keeping his eye on me - I was doing everything right. Fantastic stuff, wind on face, blue sea, 200 feet above the cliff and a fabulous view of the Mediterranean. Another flight of an hour that afternoon was the icing on the cake; this was going to be a good holiday!

On Tuesday the weather got it's revenge - too windy. We sat around cliffs and hills and muttered to each other and ourselves. Still the cheap beer, red wine and excellent Spanish tapas at the local bars helped. Wednesday was horrid, rain and wind: starting to worry now (more wine and tapas, some shopping, more wine ……..). Thursday looked better, so we pretended not to have hangovers and set off for the mountains, but too windy (beer, tapas, sunshine, wine - a hard life).

The forecast for Friday was good, our host and local guide Nick was hopeful: high pressure moving over central Spain, lots of sun, not too windy. We set off for La Palomaret about 20 miles inland, looking at flags, birds and smoke along the way for a hint of wind speed and direction. The take off site was about 2,500 feet up a mountain along a very long and precarious road, in many places it had fallen away into the valley below. The bonus was that, unlike in the UK, we didn't have to walk up. The weather was looking good, we were set up and kitted out and ready to go: radios on, straps checked, helmet buckled up (looking like an invader from space), feeling queasy, anxious (it was a long way down), face the wing and get ready to pull it up above my head.

This is where the radio came in; flying me by remote control, Trevor expertly directed me outwards to the safety of the valley then upwards. With his voice in my ear helping me stay calm and focused I circled in a thermal up to a staggering 5,000 feet. Unbelievable, words just can't describe the feeling of floating that high above the world, it's just you and the birds with the wing invisible above you unless you crane your neck upwards. I start to lose height, but Trevor was quick to see, "turn to your left David, keep turning in 360 degrees, fly straight for a bit, now 360 left again", now I'm climbing again, tight turns taking me back to nearly 5,000 feet. Floating once more high above the mountain range, then flying straight out across the valley, I see a 'plane in the next valley - it was below me! The take off area is a small dot below and the landing area looks tiny, half an hour later I decide I should go down, circle around the valley and lose height, Trevor's voice helping me to avoid the thermals this time.

Going down …… some instruction from Nick on the ground by radio …. then I'm down; exhausted and exhilarated - over an hour of sheer bliss.

We fly again from the same site that afternoon and over the next two days. The more experienced pilots in the party sometimes flying over five hours in one day - I'm not up to that but I'd flown well over six hours by the end of the week, a lot more than I thought I would. The memories of the blue Spanish sky, high dusty mountains, good living and flying with the birds will last forever.

If anyone is unsure about taking foreign trips when relatively inexperienced all I can say is find an expert instructor like Trevor who has good experience of the area and "go for it". Thanks to Trevor and Nick for a fabulous holiday. See you again soon!

David Roberts