Lonely Skies

Beautiful skies just before launch

There is a certain level of peace and solitude to be found in the snowy mountains of winter. There is just something special about the calm and quiet air that I find refreshing. It lacks the anticipated bubbling energy and excitement that so often causes my palms to sweat and heart to race come early spring. Productive thermal activity is greatly diminished in the cold snowy air, which brings a relaxing change. December has been quite stormy, which has brought strong winds and a bounty of snow, with beautiful skies and still plenty of great days to fly...so long as you are willing to brave the elements.

Self portrait-knee deep in snow

This month I have found myself flying mostly alone in the solitude of winter. Sure there has been a few days here and there flying amongst friends, but mostly my companions have been the mule deer that populate the Wasatch foothills. As the snow keeps falling, and covering each of our tracks, we have been taking turns setting the trails. Sometimes the deer break trail for me, and when it is fresh, I find it my duty to break it for them. Although generally silent, their presence has kept me company.

Racing to beat the snow

Flying through different winter storm cycles provides opportunities to experience different textures of air, to learn, experiment, and redefine your boundaries and limits as a pilot. However, one must always exercise good judgement and know your own limits and skill level. I have had some interesting flights this month that have provided new knowledge to draw upon. I have experienced 30 mph catabatic winds rush in with no warning from a calm upslope breeze. Such winds threw my glider off the mountain and down into a canyon (glad I wasn't hooked in). I have experienced unique thermal flights in the middle of snow storms. It is always interesting to be going up, while the snow falls down. I have had many mid-day and afternoon flights in the snow covered canyons and foothills. At the request of a good friend I even ventured to the Point of the Mountain for a north side thermal flight (haven't been there since May). No crowds, students, instructors, tandems or spectators...just a couple friends, soaring high above the bench for an hour or so in the freezing cold air. A rare treat indeed!

Shallow wing over before landing

As I look back on the month it has been a refreshing and peaceful change. The mountains now covered in white continue to provide wonderful views, calm air, and beautiful skies. They have offered a lot more quiet solitude than normal, but I find I am never quite alone...I still have the deer to keep me company.

Gliding in the smooth moonlight

Take to the Sky

I sit here in the calm glow of the computer screen, a few brief minutes to myself reflecting on a busy holiday filled flying weekend. November is nearing an end. We still have a few days left, but the completion of our national holiday of Thanksgiving seems to be a fitting end of the month...to me at least. As I sit here evaluating my life I have many things to be thankful for. A truly wonderful life: amazing wife, kids, faith, good health, and wonderful friends. I am thankful for the ability to live in a country that had enough foresight (then at least) to create a day to stop and count ones blessings. One thing I am thankful for, for which this blog focuses on is the miracle of free-flight. Thankful for those pioneers who have gone before to not only prove it was possible, but to perfect it in such a way that someone like me can actually soar with the birds; no motors, no metal, and no machine...just fabric and string.
I am thankful for the ability to dream, and then to act. I remember the first time my feet left the ground just above the training hill. It was only for seconds really, but a life changing moment. I think every paraglider pilot remembers their first time, and it was probably that instant that solidified the pursuit of their dream.
I now have years of flying under my belt, hundreds of flights, and hundreds of hours in the sky. I have not been to the training hill in a very long time, yet the feeling of that first flight never quite fades. I know many pilots get tired of the quick, short flights of winter, and thus hang up the gear for a season. They ask "Is it really worth all that effort of hiking up for only 5 minutes in the sky?" To me, the time and effort required to hike up a mountain is but a small price to pay, even if my feet were only a few seconds above the ground. To me every moment in the sky is still a miracle, a dream come true, and one I hope to never lose enthusiasm for.
Until one experiences this miracle of free-flight it is difficult to express how magical it truly is. I try with words to describe it, but fail in such a task. The short videos I make are an attempt to convey that joy, exhilaration, and pure magic of the sport. Perhaps even share a small piece of my passion along the way. If one has ever had such a dream, maybe now is time for you to take to the sky.

This short video is a compilation of me and my close friends captured along the Wasatch mountains during several short flights throughout the month of November. It does not showcase the flights of the last few days, such as flying the meadows of Lone Peak on Thanksgiving morning, Friday evening flights on the upper north faces of Grandeur, or the Saturday flights over the city of Bountiful. Those will have to continue to live inside my memory.

Turning of the Tide

A week or so ago the Wasatch Mountains were hit with the first measurable snow of the year. This is usually a turning of the tide in paragliding when most pilots pack up their wings and pull out the ski gear in a mad rush for the hills of white. At the conclusion of the storm I too found myself heading up familiar hills, but not with hopes of gliding through fields of snow....but to continue floating over them. I have lived here in the Wasatch my whole life and have been skiing/snowboarding for 35 years. I have experienced every kind of powder turn, and to me nothing can compare to cutting through the winter sky in a paraglider. So I always look forward to winter flying. For me, there is no such thing as a beginning or end to the flying season, which many people find rather odd. For me, it is always time to fly the mountains. Sure the air texture and temperatures change with each season, but the pure miracle and exhilaration of flight never does.

Early Winter Evening Flight

I was lucky enough to capture a handful of thrilling days and rare treats in the wake of this last winter storm. Catching a few rare thermal days in the mountains. One special day flying up, over, and around Grandeur Peak and the surrounding canyons and mountains, all covered in white. Another flying up and around the Lone Peak area for a solid hour and a half in the early winter thermic air. Beautiful evening flights at sunset from high up in the mountains. Rare treats indeed!

View from my driveway...after the storm.

I think the last 72 hours have been the real turning of the tide. For winter has surely come. At my house, tucked up to the mountains, we have received over 24" of fluffy Utah snow. I have shoveled my driveway more times that I did all of last year. I too look forward to 'recreational' and relaxing ski days ahead with my kids, but I still look forward to carving the smooth, cold air of winter. This is a wonderful season for flying, and with the turning of the tide I look forward to keeping my feet off the ground as much as I can...after all my feet start hurting when they have been on the ground too long.

Winter Thermal Flying around Grandeur Peak

The storm has ended, the sky is clearing and my feet are starting to hurt again.... :o)