In the days leading up to New Year’s Eve I had three paragliding flights on three different days. One day I had a frustrating attempt to fly but never got in the air due to arriving a bit late on launch and trying a few launch spots that not many pilots opt to use and I found out why. They were both plagued by rotor (turbulence from the wind billowing over the cliff face). Much to the amusement of some of my paragliding buddies, I kept trying for about two hours until darkness became an issue. In the end I walked down with my tail between my legs.
Flying over the point:
Giving a thumbs up to Deano:
There must be a “paragliding karma jar” though as the next day I arrived at launch and took off before the wind got too strong. A fantastic two hour flight followed with me having the entire ridge to myself in the latter half of the flight since no one could launch in the strong conditions yet I only occasionally needed to use my speed bar to penetrate forwards (the speed bar is a system that one pushes out with the legs and it changes the angle of attack of the wing and increases the ground speed of the paraglider). Near the end of the flight I gained altitude which was the highest I have been on all my flights here...but I was starting to slowly go backwards a bit. I also saw a beach parasol tumbling down Kerem Beach and recalled an earlier conversation with a Belgium dock worker and kite surfer Merv who said that he would know when he could hit the water when such an event occurred. Normally if it’s strong enough for kite surfers it’s usually too much for paragliding.
Flying in the high wind:
High over the Sweet Lake beach:
I decided it was time to land so I raced across the main ridge, past what’s known as the bowl, across Sweet Lake to the small southern ridge and then headed across Arambol Beach towards the Olive Garden restaurant. I saw a number of kite surfers cruising back and forth on the ocean and easily picked out tall Merv in his element...he’s quite good. Since the wind had a strong northerly component in it, I expected some rotor from the promontory at the north end of Arambol Beach, about 500 meters from where I was landing. It turned out to be quite bumpy and as I turned into the wind I found myself alternating from slowly moving forward to creeping backwards. I prepared myself to quickly douse the wing but still got picked up just after landing and ran about 10 yards before I succeeded in bringing the paraglider down to the beach. I was able to stay on my feet so it was a small price to play for such a wonderful flight.
Landing in the high wind:
On New Year’s Eve, a group of paraglider pilots along with some of my hut neighbours gathered at the Olive Garden for a big dinner. The paragliding group comprised of Deano, the Englishman that I met back in France in September, another English pilot Mark, Aussie Johno and his girlfriend Shelley and finally Paul, another Brit who is a busker in Europe for his occupation. The hut neighbours included English Jon who’s been here for the last three weeks, a couple of Kiwi ladies Mallory and Rewa, and Jorge and Wendy, a couple who hail from Texas and Alberta respectively.
Wendy and Jorge with a hookah:
Deano, Mark and Paul at dinner:
After a lovely supper and a few drinks the countdown to the New Year was upon us. We stepped out on the beach from the restaurant to ring in 2011 and catch the myriad of fireworks that exploded all along the waterfront (a “fireworks free for all”). It was quite an impressive display. Thumping dance music emanated from three different bars nearby and Ashish, a high intensity 20 year old worker in the restaurant, convinced Jon and I to check them out. “Party party!” he said. He’s a funny guy who’s just go go go. When Jon and I play chess Ashish gets frustrated by how slow we are between moves (“Play play!” he says over and over again). Neither Jon nor I were terribly inspired by the music and were even more turned off by the overwhelming number of Indian men in all locations. I think many women were put off by the prospect of the likely possibility of being groped by drunken guys and I can’t blame them.
Fireworks on the beach:
Jon and Ashish:
We returned to the Garden for a drink and eventually headed back to the huts. Deano and I met some Russians (who I later found out were from Vladivostok) sitting with a couple from Sweden, Martin and Ida. The Russians were staying in the huts across from me, Kir and Eugene in one and Victoria and Olga in the other. It was suggested that we play Charades. Well this should be entertaining. The way they play is not to act out movies, books or TV shows but to do just one word. The first word that was amazingly guessed by one of the Russians was “microbe”! Yikes, that’s tough. By the time I finally had to act, I was given the challenging word “poltergeist”. I tried pulling the most psycho faces I could pull followed by scenes from the movie. When that got me no where I tried to go for “sounds like poultry”...to no avail. Sadly I was one of the few not to succeed.
My new Russian friends:
We finally ended the evening close to 5am and it wasn’t until 5:30 that the manic thumping that earplugs couldn’t even drown out finally finished at the three bars. Normally all bars have to be quiet by 10 or 11pm but these places must have paid the cops some baksheesh (a bribe). Fair enough, it is New Year’s.
2010 was quite an interesting year for me with many ups but some huge downs, the biggest one of course being the loss of my father. I hope 2011 brings more ups than downs and for all of you reading this blog, I wish you the same.
Happy New Year!
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