The Teton Dream?

I am exhausted as I watch the yellow dotted lines flicker passed out the window.  I am returning from a busy 7 days of flying.  Randolph, Southern California, home sites, now another quick paragliding trip to Jackson Hole.  Ever since I have started flying I have always wanted to fly here, and with the season at Jackson rapidly coming to a close, Paul and I just have to run up and get in a quick flight.  Of course we had to stop in Randolph, Utah for another awesome evening flight...all the way to dark (twice this week).  We arrived in Jackson and are sleeping in the gravel by the truck in a safe place, so we think.  People wandering the middle of the night, drug deals, bullets being chambered, all the while I curl up in my bag under my truck searching for my happy place; it makes for a very unrestful night.



I should have known that today was going to be bad, based on last nights events, but the excitement of the somewhat clear/smoky skies and lack of wind make me smile.  We scramble to Teton Village and then the fun begins.  My mother always taught me that if I didn't have anything nice to say, to not say anything at all.  With that in mind, this post will be relatively short.  Paragliding in Jackson Hole was unfortunately not the dream I had hoped for.  The people/pilots were less than, friendly, professional, or even cordial for that matter.  If you plan on flying there...just be cautious.  Especially if you are an advanced pilot and do not need a guide or your nose wiped.  If you are a budding pilot and want/need a guide, then I think the experience would probably be much better, as money often talks.  I know there are some nice, fun, friendly local pilots who fly there, but unfortunately none were present today.  I do not see myself flying there again anytime soon, nor recommending any of my pilot friends visit either.  Once the feet left the ground, it was beautiful with the autumn colors, and to be flying with my buddy Paul, who always makes it entertaining, especially when getting ridiculed by the local pilots.

Paragliding is a wonderful sport, trying so hard to grow and gain acceptance here in the U.S.  Perhaps one day we will be more like Europe, where arms are wide open to pilots no matter where you go (for the most part).  At least that is how I roll.  Any pilot who has traveled to Utah to fly, I am more than willing and excited to help show them the sites...even for free!  What started as a Teton dream unfortunately turned in to a restless sleep.

Southern California

I stare down from 37,000 feet into the darkness below.  The lights of the city are fading away as I fly out of Long Beach, California eastward across the desert.  As I stare out the window, eyes heavy, I ponder on the activities of today.  I guess it all started last night when Mark called and said "Hey, want to go to Southern California and do some paragliding tomorrow?" My knee -jerk reaction, as always..."Absolutely!"  Therefore, at 4:45 a.m. I roll from my bed, hop into the car and head to Salt Lake International to catch my flight.  

Torrey Pines, a cliff launch over the ocean in butter smooth air.  Green grass to launch from, a snack bar, and miles of sandy beach to fly over...what could be better?  How about some altitude for starters, and I could actually do without all the old naked guys standing on the beach below playing volleyball...now that is just 'bad naked.'  Although beautiful, so far as you are looking up, the site becomes quite boring to fly after just a short time.  No real altitude here, but pure brainless flying...it was great.

Near lunch time I find myself an hour away from Torrey Pines in a small place called Blossom Valley.  You could not find a place more different than Torrey.  Dry, dry desert with just prickly plants and barren mountains.  However, the thermals are quite strong, and I decide to launch in the heat of the day against my better judgement.  Thirty minutes into the flight, I am tired of getting thrown around in the washing machine air, and call it quits.  Mark follows suit, glad to be back on the ground.

One more quick flight at Torrey Pines, over the cliff, and down to naked beach.  Pack up the glider, get something to eat, then we are outta here.

Now here I sit at 37,000 feet staring into the darkness.  What a great day flying different sites here in southern California, with a great friend.  I am already looking forward to coming back to here soon, perhaps under better flying conditions.