Hello again! René and my time at Staufner Haus turned out to be the longest stay in one place that we’ve had in the trip so far (with the exception of René’s grandparent’s house in Czech) – almost two and a half weeks. While we were there we worked about every second day – doing breakfast service, cleaning the hut, or doing dishes during the lunch or dinner service – in exchange for our food and board. This was lovely as it left lots of time for relaxing, but we still felt that we were pulling our weight. I don’t have the energy or inclination to write a day-by-day analysis of our stay, and if I don’t have the energy or inclination to write one then you definitely don’t have the energy or inclination to read one! So this will be a highlights reel of sorts.

Friday 7 June: Arrival at Staufner Haus

So René and I left beautiful Bischling and the Austrian Alps behind us, driving west through the flatlands and Munich before turning south into the Alps once again. The drive wasn’t the most comfortable due to the day’s intense heat and the van’s lack of air conditioning, but we made it without too much trouble (although we did vow that from now on we would be travelling only at night!). It took a significant bit of navigation to find our way to where we needed to be – René’s friend Lukáš, who manages the mountain hut Staufner Haus, would drive to the valley floor to get us, but it sure was an obscure valley! We parked up in the gondola carpark and just a couple of minutes later, Lukáš arrived. René was delighted to see him and I was very pleased to meet him as well. He talked to the gondola staff and got us a long-term parking pass, then we loaded up his ute with the gliders and everything we’d need for a few days’ stay, and we set off up the road. Lukáš said he was glad we had plenty of weight in the van (those gliders really add up) as the road can be challenging, and that was an understatement! It was all rocks, many the size of my fist, and was often 45 degrees steep, even on sharp corners. René and Lukáš chattered away in Czech as he drove us up and I looked out the window and hung onto the grip of the door for dear life as we bumped on the holes and skidded round the turns and spun the wheels.

Staufner Haus is located on Hochgrat, a 1834 metre high mountain in the northern foothills of the German Alps. Just below the peak of Hochgrat is the gondola station. It’s a cute gondola, too – very slow, ancient (from the 60’s by the looks of it), and the gondola cars are painted canary yellow with cartoon bumblebees – adorable! And just below the gondola station is Staufner Haus. It’s a mountain hut in the European sense of the word – very different from what I’m used to! NZ mountain huts are generally small one-room shelters, unstaffed and without electricity; just a few bunks, a tap with rainwater collected from the roof, and maybe an ancient wood stove if you’re lucky. They’re very cheap or even free to stay at, but they’re designed as a shelter from the elements and no more. Every European I’ve told that to has looked almost affronted at the thought! European mountain huts are basically small hotels. Staufner Haus is three stories plus a basement and has room for 75 guests across more than a dozen rooms, ranging from 16-bunk rooms to double bedrooms with feather duvets. The ground floor of the hut is devoted to a large bar with two dining rooms (seating around 70, plus another 30 or so on the outside tables in fine weather), and a commercial kitchen serving a wide variety of traditional German meals, as well as a small staff lounge/office. There are bathrooms on every floor and dedicated shower-rooms for men and women, as well as a drying room for wet clothing and shoes, and multiple bedrooms for staff including the manager’s suite, which has its own en-suite. In short, a very different beast from what I’m used to, and infinitely more comfortable!

We soon found we weren’t the only guests of Lukáš’ for the first night – a couple, mutual friends of both him and René, had come to visit as well. Their names were Petra and Vašek and they were both very nice and interesting people as well. Petra likes to train dogs and they had two dogs with them, an adult named Billie and a puppy named Zoey – both were very polite, which is a trait I like in a dog!

We were also introduced to the staff on that first evening. In the kitchen were British chef Sophie, her German girlfriend Luisa (also a chef), and a lovely older woman named Gudrun who helped make the side salads and prepare things. The front of house staff were Natasha, a German woman who just worked on the weekends; Anil, a Nepalese man who emigrated to Germany to be with his wife; Nelly, a German girl who was also an amateur paraglider pilot; Karol, a Czech friend of Lukáš’ who had come to help for a couple of weeks while he was understaffed; and of course Lukáš himself, also Czech, and an accomplished pilot (hence his connection to René). With such a small staff all living together the hut had a lovely vibe, like a family all working together to make the place run.

It was still beautiful and sunny so Petra, Vašek, René, Lukáš and I sat at a table outside and drank beer. As the evening wore on we moved to the back porch (private for staff only) and watched the sun set, then went for a walk to the ridge to look south into the dusky Alps.

It really was a lovely introduction to the place which would be our home for the next two weeks! Unfortunately Petra and Vašek left the next morning but it was still such a pleasure to be able to spend an evening with them.

Saturday 8 June: Flying Hochgrat

The day after we arrived at Staufner Haus was looking flyable, and René and I were excited to try out the new site. Although Hochgrat is in the foothills of the Alps, the direction, size and shapes of the ridges behind it means it’s not an ideal starting place for cross-country, but it’s fine for short flights or even some soaring if the wind is strong. So René, Lukáš and I put our gliders on our backs and 15 minutes and some aching lungs later (Hochgrat is very steep!) we were at the peak.

Launching from a peak can be challenging, as if there’s any wind there’s probably a bit of rotor as well. But the wind was coming from the south and the only south-facing launch on Hochgrat is at the peak, so it was that or nothing. Sure enough, the three streamers at the site were indicating a strong westerly, strong northerly, and strong easterly respectively – so not just a bit of rotor, quite a lot! Lukáš was adamant it was safe to launch but I wasn’t so sure, especially seeing as we’d have to fly over a saddle in the ridge to get to the landing zone (on the north side of the ridge) and getting close to the ridge would put us back in serious rotor. But Lukáš went for it, his launch was fine, and he seemed to be doing okay. Next was René – he wasn’t so lucky! He brought the glider up only for it to immediately turn 90 degrees to the right in the rotor; but he put it back down and tried again, and managed to control the wing enough to get off the hill.

Ultimately I decided I’d give it a shot. I brought the wing up and it was jumping around left and right from the rotor – I was running sideways back and forth across the hill trying to keep it from collapsing, but still I made it into the air. I followed René to the west and we got some nice thermals, climbing up quite high and getting lovely views of the flatlands and the Alps, as well as the valley where the town of Oberstdorf and famous mountain Nebelhorn are located (about 20km away in a straight line). After about 15 minutes we headed north towards the landing, and I did a couple of spiral dives to get down – good fun! Although trying to lose the last 100 metres of height was a challenge – I kept getting stuck in thermals and was going up even when I pulled “big ears” (making the wing significantly smaller so I would sink faster). The two official landings are at the bottom of a steep valley – they’re small, on uneven ground, hemmed by trees, fences, and power lines, and the wind gets funnelled through them, making both of them very challenging. René and I both opted for a slope landing instead on one of the more open (and therefore safer) fields; then we met up with Lukáš, who hadn’t been so lucky finding thermals and had landed 20 minutes earlier, and the three of us caught the gondola back up – it’s free for Staufner Haus staff, thank goodness!

The wind kept picking up through the afternoon and in the evening it looked like it might be soarable. So at 8pm the three of us grabbed our gliders again and headed up the hill about 20 metres, to launch into the strong northerly. When we got there it was gusting strongly, with no wind at all and then suddenly a huge gust, but my inexperience with soaring meant I didn’t identify this as a danger sign. Again Lukáš launched first, then René, then me. The air was absolutely horrible – during a gust you’d be catapulted upwards, but then when the gust died you’d drop out of the sky at quite a speed. I thought it must be just me not enjoying it, but then René landed after about 5 minutes and Lukáš about 30 seconds later. I had decided to land by that point but ultimately I didn’t have a choice in the matter – 10 seconds after Lukáš landed the gust I was in died, my groundspeed increased from maybe about 5kmh to 30kmh, and I accelerated and sank towards the fast-approaching hill. I tried to flare the glider (the manoeuvre used to land) but it was no use – I hit the ground hard and at speed, feet first then head (thank god for my helmet!), and was dragged a couple of metres on my front up the grassy slope before the glider hit the ground. My clothes and new harness were covered in dirt from the drag and I was pretty shaken, but at least I learnt a valuable lesson from the experience – no soaring when it’s gusting!

A side note – when I first started paragliding I found it strange that pilots wore helmets, and I’ve heard this opinion voiced by non-pilots near launches too. If you’re falling out of the sky at terminal velocity, what’s a helmet going to do? Of course it’ll do nothing, but if you have a gnarly launch or landing, they can be game-changing.

Wednesday 12 June: Walk with Mammut & that sunset!

The Wednesday after we arrived at Staufner Haus we weren’t required to work and the weather was lovely, so we decided to go for a walk with Mammut instead. He’s the only important character I haven’t introduced yet – Lukáš’ delightful bear-like dog, with a beautiful honey-coloured coat and heterochromial eyes, one brown and one blue. He got on particularly well with René, as the latter is much more willing to wrestle with dogs than most people. Mammut lives at Staufner Haus as well, but he’s always up for a walk, so we took him for a nice long one – up to the peak, then all the way down into the valley floor, then back up the road to Staufner Haus. He loves water and snow and whenever we passed large patches of snow he’d jump on them, rolling around and then sliding down the hill on his belly like a penguin, pushing himself with his back paws. He’s such a character!

The route we took with Mammut involved walking through or near a lot of fields full of cows, which I really enjoyed. The cows in Allgäu (the area in which Staufner Haus is located) are all very beautiful, a soft dusky grey with big dark eyes, and they all wear cowbells. I can’t describe the sound of a large herd of cows all wearing cowbells chiming different pitches but it’s very beautiful. Cowbells on cows is a common practice in Europe from what I’ve seen (the first that I encountered were in Italy) and I find the sound so soothing. However we did notice that the cows were very interested in Mammut! In the first field, which we walked through, he and René were followed by two or three cows. It was quite funny to see – René and Mammut would speed up a little to get away, and the cows would speed up to stay close. When we walked past a second field full of cows, half a dozen of them came to the fenceline to look at Mammut. By the time we walked past the third field of cows, his effect seemed to have amplified – every single cow in the field came running down to the fenceline, jostling for position and bellowing loudly. I’d never seen anything like it! Poor Mammut seemed quite overwhelmed – he hid behind René. We later found out that cows see some dogs (especially large dogs like Mammut) as a threat, and their response is to form a wall or be otherwise intimidating so that he doesn’t get any ideas. Not that Mammut would hurt a fly anyway! But it sure was an interesting phenomenon to watch.

That evening was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen in my life. I was lying in bed (it was such a long walk, it really took a lot out of me!) when I noticed that the grass outside my window had gone bright pink. I was just getting up when René burst through the door saying I had to come and look. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful! It fact it was so lovely that we’ve since printed out a photo of it and have stuck it onto one of the cabinets in the van, so we can enjoy it every day.

Monday 17 June: Meeting with Tobi

By the time we’d been living in Staufner Haus for a week, René and I had made up our minds to stay there for the rest of the summer, if possible. Although we’d come to Europe so that René could work as a tandem pilot, the one year stand-down period on the Austrian license was a major spanner in the works and we didn’t have any contacts for getting a German license. And life there was great – we were flying on our days off (René took Gudrun, Karol, Anil and Natasha for tandem flights), and spending the bad weather days playing Settlers of Catan (a favourite board game of Lukáš’), playing with Mammut, and eating delicious traditional German meals, cakes and strudel. We were under the impression that Lukáš was understaffed for the remainder of the summer season, so staying wouldn’t be an issue – but when we mentioned it to him, he regretfully told us that he only needed short-term staff, as he had two new staff members joining the team in August. This was such a shame to hear, but we adapted and soon came up with a new plan. René had the contact details of a pilot running a tandem company in nearby Oberstdorf, 10km from the Austrian border – perhaps he could fly for him. So just a couple of days after we’d received the news from Lukáš, we drove 40 minutes to the tiny village of Bolsterlang, to meet Tobi.

We parked in the carpark of the Hörnerbahn gondola as directed, and waited inside the terminal for Tobi to arrive. The plan was that we would go up the gondola and shadow Tobi for a couple of flights – he was flying tandem with customers, and René would watch the interactions, discuss with him how the business model works, and of course fly a couple of tandems with me to demonstrate his skill. Tobi was perfectly punctual, and not at all like I’d pictured him – I always expect tandem company owners to be in their 40’s at least, but Tobi is only 4 years older than I am. He’s a warm and outgoing man with thick brown hair in a style reminiscent of Albert Einstein, and I liked him immediately.

We all squeezed into one gondola car (4 people and 2 tandem gliders, you can bet we were squished!) and watched Tobi go through the paperwork and safety briefing with his customer, then we chatted about the technicalities of the site. It was a 5 minute walk from the top of the gondola to the launch, and there was already a good launching wind and a couple of tandem pilots there. As we were setting up they both launched with their passengers – forwards. Any pilots reading will understand how odd this was to witness – forward launching is used almost exclusively by beginner pilots, as anyone with any ability to control the wing will find it easier (and safer) to use the reverse-launching technique. But anyway, René and I harnessed ourselves in and took off. It was a nice flight with some good thermalling over a nearby ridge; and we waited until Tobi had landed, then did some acrobatics over the landing field and topped it off with a nice smooth landing, using the advanced technique called “swooping”. As we went back up for our second flight, Tobi lamented the abilities of many tandem pilots in the area. The German tandem license is apparently very easy to get, with the result that it’s granted to a lot of pilots who don’t have the skills to fly tandem. He told us that the reason for the two tandem pilots forwards-launching was almost certainly that they didn’t know how to reverse-launch. I was amazed.

The second flight went even better than the first, and Tobi took videos of René’s launch and landing to show to the other owners – he co-owns the company, Vogelfrei, with two other pilots. One of the other owners, Shelli, was working at Nebelhorn that day, and the other owner, Manu, was currently competing in the Red Bull X-Alps, as he had also done in 2017 and 2015. I’ve mentioned this competition in my previous post – the X-Alps are like the Olympics of paragliding, and only the top two pilots in the country are able to enter. Vogelfrei’s motto is “Tandemfliegen mit profis” (Tandem flights with professionals) and René and I definitely realised the calibre of pilots in the company when we found out about Manu! After a third flight, Tobi, René, and I went for a late lunch at a small cafe in the village, along with another Vogelfrei pilot that we’d bumped into on landing, Jonas. Tobi told us, over bowls of carrot and ginger soup, that he was pleased with what he’d seen and would be very happy to hire René, but he’d have to consult with Shelli first – Manu, in the X-Alps, would be completely incommunicado for two weeks. He said Shelli would give René a call soon, and we headed back to Staufner Haus tentatively hopeful.

Thursday 20 June: XC 25km

A few days after our meeting with Tobi, the weather was looking good for a spot of cross country. René and I had planned to fly to Nebelhorn and hopefully back, although with quite a strong prevailing wind pushing towards Nebelhorn I wasn’t holding my breath for a return journey! We launched from one of the lower, north-facing takeoffs – with the exception of our first couple of flights from Hochgrat, we’d used this takeoff exclusively, and I was glad for it as it was a much easier (and significantly less rotor-y) launch! René thermalled up and was gone in a flash, but I had a much harder time of it. The prevailing wind meant the thermals were drifted and hard hang on to, but eventually I made it to cloudbase (there’s no feeling quite like flying into the bottom of a cloud!) and set off for the next ridge to the south. For most of the glide to the ridge I was in severe sink, meaning I arrived with much less height than I’d have liked to, and to make matters worse as I followed the ridge I couldn’t find a single thermal. I ended up scratching (that’s paraglider-speak for trying to thermal up but not managing it) on the east face of Oberstdorf valley, close to Hörnerbahn and below a ridgeline. I was sure that I was done for, and would have to land out, when by the mercy of the wind I found a decent thermal and managed to climb back up – over 1000 vertical metres. From there I jumped further east, over the town of Oberstdorf to the magnificent mountains that rise behind it. I arrived just over Rubihorn, in spitting distance to Nebelhorn – and the views were absolutely spectacular. I flew right next to the peak, close enough that I could have shouted hello to the hikers atop had I chosen.

I was so excited to continue on and see Nebelhorn – and who knows, if I could keep going, maybe I could try for my 60km open distance – but it wasn’t to be. I didn’t catch another thermal from there and went down, down, down, across the Nebelhornbahn cables and finally landing at the Nebelhorn LZ (landing zone) in Oberstdorf. It was full of cows – definitely not usual for a landing field – which was cool, because it’s a novelty and I had to be really careful about the exact spot I touched down in, but also not cool, because when I brought my glider to the ground it fell into a big pile of what I like to think of as “reconstituted grass”.

Total distance: 25.69km

Total time: 1 hour 29 minutes

Flight data and 2D tracklog

3D tracklog

On landing I ran into Tobi and Hannah, a friend of the Vogelfrei pilots whom I’d met briefly the day that René did his “job interview” with Tobi. Tobi gave us the excellent news that Shelli would call René that evening, and Hannah very kindly gave me a lift to the Fischen train station. From there I hitchhiked to Immenstadt, and from there it should have been a simple train ride to Oberstaufen, from whence René could pick me up (of course he’d flown to Nebelhorn, flown all around it, and then flown back to Hochgrat valley and landed beside the car). Unfortunately for me it didn’t go so simply! I needed to take the train to Lindau at 1645, and when I saw it pull into the station I hopped into the last carriage. Imagine my surprise when the train started moving in the opposite direction than I expected! I thought maybe I’d just gotten spun around, so I asked a family sitting opposite me, who assured me in no uncertain terms that this train was definitely not going to Lindau. So I hopped off at the next stop, waited half an hour for a train back to Immenstadt, then waited another 15 minutes for the train to Lindau. Turns out the four-carriage train that arrives at Immenstadt station is then split into two trains – carriages one and two continue onwards to Lindau, while carriages three and four head back to Oberstdorf. Definitely an easy mistake to make!

So eventually I made it to Oberstaufen. René picked me up, we had a couple of beers at a nice pub in the village of Steibis (between Oberstaufen and the Hochgratbahn terminal), then met Anil in the terminal carpark, who’d brought the quad bike down for us. And René had a great time driving us home on it! Oh, the logistical challenges of paragliding…

Epilogue

That’s about it from our time at Staufner Haus! It’s hard to sum up what a special time we had there, and how nice it was to get into a rhythm of life. That’s definitely something you lack when you’re unemployed and live in a van! Although the van life isn’t quite so depressing as that sentence made it sound. The only other important thing to mention was that Lukáš wife, Kateřina, gave birth to twins shortly before we left – David and Karolina, making them a family of five with their 2-year-old daughter Sara. We never saw Kateřina or the twins except in photos, but we did meet Sara for a couple of days before we went. Usually the whole family lives at Staufner Haus – the only reason that Kateřina wasn’t there during our stay was because she was heavily pregnant and the accessibility of Staufner Haus could have caused issues were she to go into labour while she was there.

René got the promised call from Shelli, inviting us for coffee the next day in Oberstdorf. He’s another lovely man, in his late 40’s or early 50’s by the look of it, and loud and full of energy. We had a great time chatting about how Manu was doing in the X-Alps and René’s plans for a bivouac (more on that below). And towards the end we talked about René’s start date with Vogelfrei and how to navigate the bureaucracy of working at a German tandem pilot. So it turned out that our Plan A, to come to Europe for René to work as a tandem pilot, has worked out after all! We honestly weren’t expecting it to by this point so to have it turn around for us has been fantastic.

We left Staufner Haus just as the European heatwave, which has been in the news so much lately, was beginning. The extremely high pressure had the potential to cause some incredible conditions, so I planned to go to Bischling for another shot at my 60km. In the meantime René planned to bivouac across the Alps. This is a very intense (and very cool!) subsection of the sport – where one flies as far as one can, then lands, camps on the mountaintop, then launches the next day and keeps going. You have to fly with a sleeping bag, mattress, food, water, everything – and it all has to fit into a harness pocket (think ultra small and lightweight) and you have to carry it all on your back if you have to hike. Extreme! As a side-note, the Red Bull X-Alps are essentially bivouacing, where you fly from Salzburg to Monaco, only you have a support team as it takes a couple of weeks and it’d definitely be impossible without them. I hope to get into bivouacing one day, but not for several years. So we planned that I would drive to Bischling, and he would fly to Vienna over about 3 days, and I would meet him there and we’d drive back to Czech for his aunt’s 50th birthday party (the reason for us leaving Staufner Haus in the first place).

But that whole adventure is for another blog post! I’m slowly eating away at the backlog  (only two-and-a-half weeks behind now!) so with luck I’ll have another post for you in a few days 🙂 stay tuned!

 

I must begin with an apology. For such a long time not much was happening, and then when things finally started to happen I was too busy doing things to write. Back in Czech Republic, all the courses René and I were supposed to go on were cancelled, and then I didn’t manage to make it to Poland as I’d intended – I didn’t think to book my tour of Auschwitz in advance and so when I went to book it the night before I found they were full until the following week. But about a month ago René and I left the Czech Republic to live in our little van and have adventures. Our first adventure was a week in the Austrian Alps, in a tiny village called Werfenweng nestled underneath the beautiful mountain Bischling, about 40 minutes drive from Salzburg. It’s a popular spot for paragliders, and there’s a flight school based in the village at which René had organised to make the requirements for his Austrian tandem license.

Friday 31 May: Arrival at Werfenweng

We drove most of the way to Werfenweng on Thursday evening, to avoid the hideous European traffic, and parked up overnight at a small camping spot just off the highway, about 15 minutes from the town. Of course it had been so dark while driving that we couldn’t see any of the landscape, and I was blown away when we woke up, got out of the van and saw where we were! We had stopped right in the middle of a mountain pass, with incredible steep cliffs rising up all around us. A short drive later and we arrived at the flight school. The scenery was absolutely stunning – so stunning I forgot to take any photographs! Google to the rescue…

At the flight school we met the tandem pilot Sebastian, his lovely girlfriend Lissi, and the two instructors (and brothers), Stefan and Josef, the latter known as Sep. Sep explained how the license would work – René would take a tandem with me, then sit a practical exam on his solo glider, then complete 10 tandem flights (usually they require 40 but his 800+ commercial tandem flights lessened the requirement). So we took the gondola up the mountain (€26 for a day pass, ouch!) and did a great flight, complete with SAT – an advanced acrobatic manoeuvre similar to but significantly more challenging than a spiral dive (if you’re curious, here’s a short YouTube video).

After that we went back up so René could do his solo exam, and I could have a flight. This was very exciting as the day previously I had bought a new harness! It’s a Chogori Ultrino which was for sale second-hand (but only 30 hours of use) at René’s flight school in Czech, a pod harness (meaning the pilot’s legs are covered and stretched straight out for comfort, warmth and aerodynamics). I had intended to buy a new wing before buying a new harness but it was so beautiful and comfortable and for such a good price that I went for it. René quickly switched my emergency parachute from my old harness to my new one for me and then we headed back up the gondola.

Launching in a pod is much more challenging than launching in a regular harness as you have a lot of fabric and a polycarbonate board flapping around your feet as you try to run! But I managed it (perhaps not very gracefully!) and was in love as soon as I managed to wriggle myself into the harness properly. So comfortable! So warm! And so much ability to weight-shift! Weight-shifting is extremely important for steering, especially for advanced wings – arguably more important than the brakes. My old harness was very much a beginner’s harness, built for safety rather than efficacy, and its weight-shifting ability had been a joke. It was overcast, meaning there were no thermals and the flight was short, but it was still a fantastic flight, with beautiful views of the Alps.

I landed happy and was just chatting to René and packing up my gear next to the landing field when an older pilot came towards us. As it would happen, his reason for this was his interest in my harness! He had been flying 20 years and struggled to find a lightweight pod harness that gave him the lumbar support he needed for long XC flights. The three of us talked about the harness while he examined it and he left very impressed, with the name of the website where he could buy one in his head. It was such a lovely feeling! It’s one thing to have a new toy and be in love with it, but quite another when a very experienced pilot has such a high opinion of it as well.

After this René took a tandem with a student from the flight school while I flew and then we did another tandem together – 3 tandems down, 7 to go! That evening we walked into Werfenweng to explore. Just as Bassano del Grappa was aggressively Italian, Werfenweng is very traditionally northern-Alps-ish – huge plaster and wood buildings with wooden balconies and shuttered windows.

We ended up in the bar of one of the hotels, chatting to the very nice Hungarian bartender named Gerri, then wandered back up the hill to the van. That night we slept in the carpark of the Barbarahof hotel; as my middle name is Barbara I really felt at home!

Saturday 1 June: Tandems tandems tandems!

The next morning we got up early to get started on our tandems. It was a very tiring day! Ride up the gondola, unpack the wing, clip in, fly (short flights as it was still overcast), land, pack up, walk back to the gondola, repeat. The first 4 or so were fun but after that I think we both started to get tired. However, in the late afternoon the high cloud finally cleared, just in time for our last flight. Finally some thermals started to rise and we flew for an hour! It was a phenomenal flight – I had been admiring the beautiful Tennengebirge mountains since we arrived in Werfenweng and we flew all around them, even getting high up enough that we could see the plateau above it. We took some lovely photos and videos as well.

Sunday 2 June: XC 66km

On Sunday morning we woke up early to hike up Bischling with an aim to go cross-country. The hike included the dual benefits of helping with our fitness and saving us the €14 fee for a single trip up the gondola. Unfortunately we got a bit lost and ended up bushwhacking a couple of times (I feel like I’ve told this story before!) but eventually we made it to the top. It was a stunning day – a huge anticyclone was sitting over the Alps and the sky was a crystalline blue with the first fluffy cumuli just starting to form.

My aim was to fly the 60km open distance flight which is required for my advanced pilots license. Generally speaking, open distance is defined as 60km across three turnpoints, and you’re not allowed to land where you started otherwise it’s a triangle rather than open distance. So from launch I planned to hop to the south across a large valley, then hop across another large valley to the west, and then continue west to Zell am See. This is a small town on a lake in the Austrian Alps and from the west of it is Pinzgau valley, well-known to many paragliders as one of the best XC valleys in the world. It runs 30km east-west with a straight ridge on the northern side (facing south into the sun) which, if it’s a thermic day, is always working with great thermals. If you can get over the ridge, you can just fly straight without needing to stop and thermal up – the air there is rising so smoothly and consistently you’ll maintain your height or even gain a bit simply by flying forward, allowing any pilot who can make it there to fly fast and far with minimal effort. My route to Zell am See was already about 40km long, so if I could get there then getting the remaining 20km would be a breeze. The only thing to worry about would be getting back home when I landed!

However, disaster struck on launch when I realised I didn’t have my variometer (usually called a vario) with me. This handy device beeps when you’re in lifting air – the more high-pitched and faster the beeps, the faster you’re climbing. It’s essential for XC flights for obvious reasons – if you’re a kilometre above the ground you can’t tell if you’re going up or down just by looking at the nearest hill. Usually René’s spare vario lives on my harness and I use that, but we’d taken it off the day before to use it for the tandems, and when we’d finished our last flight he gave it to me and I put it in the pocket of my flying jacket; but on launch I searched all my pockets and my glider multiple times and it just wasn’t there. My hopes for getting my 60km were pretty much gone when I discovered this, but I decided I’d give it my best shot anyway. Luckily, with the flight deck on my new harness I had space for visual instruments. I always fly with the orange mobile (René’s old one which got almost destroyed by malware) in my pocket, to record my flight tracklogs, but the same app that records the tracklogs also has an option to display flight data. So I attached it to the flight deck of the harness and hoped that the altimeter (which would show me my height above sea level) would be able to partially negate the loss of the vario.

We launched at around 11am and I lost René pretty much immediately (there’s no way I can keep up with his glider, especially without a vario!) but I had plenty of fun flying by myself. The altimeter turned out to be a gamechanger – thermalling up was very challenging with it close to the ground, but when I was high enough that visual reference wasn’t possible I could just watch the altimeter like a hawk and use it to find the best lift. I successfully made the first big jump across the valley to the south, arriving low and spending a lot of time trying to regain the height I’d lost, but eventually managing it. From there I made the jump to the west, and once I had done that I knew the hardest parts were behind me. However, I also realised I needed to use the bathroom and I was only 15km into the flight. But I pressed on, towards Zell am See. As I got closer to it the thermals got more and more violent. This flight was definitely the most turbulence I’d ever flown in, but as I was flying my nice safe BGD Wasp which I know like the back of my hand, and I was so high above the ground, I wasn’t concerned about it.

As I neared Zell am See I started to meet with sailplanes, and even a couple of powered planes, which was very disconcerting! I’d never flown with either before – sailplanes aren’t so popular in NZ, and powered planes and gliders will never be in the same airspace due to our regulations. The sailplanes in particular were huge and moved so quickly, it was strange to share airspace with them. I just had to keep an eye on them and remind myself that they are VFR (visual flight rules) aircraft like me, and that they have to give way to me as I’m piloting the smaller and slower aircraft. Generally speaking they gave me plenty of space although there were a couple of times when one came about 100 metres from me and that was a bit stressful! 100 metres might seem like a lot on the ground but when you’re in fast-moving aircraft 100 metres is nothing. The powered planes thankfully kept their distance, which I was very grateful for – they’re IFR (instrument flight rules) aircraft, which means the pilots could be spending more time looking at their instruments (checking radar etc) than looking at the air in front of them.

The last valley jump of my flight was across Zell am See town, which is in a large valley with steep sides. I went into it nice and high and arrived at the famous Zell am See ridge with plenty of height to spare. By this point I was desperate to land and find a bathroom but the orange mobile was telling me I’d already flown 45km open distance – just 15 more kilometres and the task would be complete. I decided to turn back a couple of times (as I could still get 60km across three turnpoints if I flew 45km west then 15km east) but then changed my mind and pressed on westwards along the ridge. 50km… 55km… 60km! But still I kept going a little way, just in case the orange mobile had some inaccuracies. When I reached 65km I turned out into the valley and back the way I’d come (to decrease the distance needed to hitchhike), and did two long spirals to try and lose my height, drifting back towards Zell am See in the strong valley wind. I eventually landed having completed a 66km open distance flight over 3 turnpoints, but felt a sense of foreboding when the orange mobile told me I’d flown just 55km. However, a little bit of looking into it made me realise that that was the straight line distance, not the open distance, so it should be nothing to worry about. I sent the tracklog to my instructor in New Zealand to double check but prepared to celebrate that evening anyway!

Total distance: 66.44km

Total time: 3 hours 23 minutes

Flight data and 2D tracklog

3D tracklog

Unfortunately I seem to have lost the footage from this flight so there’s no YouTube video this time 😦

I hitchhiked from the village where I landed to Zell am See, where I took the train back to Werfen, a few kilometres from home. René came to pick me up, we bought some nice wine, and headed back to Werfenweng for an evening of celebrating. Finally, the dreaded 60km flight, the biggest barrier to my on-time completion of the advanced license, ticked off the list!

Monday 3 June: chores

The next day was flyable as well but I decided to sit it out. This was due to a combination of being exhausted (physically and mentally) from the day before, the weather forecast showing a number of excellent flying days to come, and the fact that I desperately needed a shower and to charge some of our electronics. So I hung around the flight school, used the shower there, and met some more of the staff – including a lovely woman called Stephi, who was once on the support crew for the Austrian X-Alps team! That’s like being the pit crew for Formula 1, but with paragliders. René was flying because somehow his muscles have this superhuman ability to not be sore the day after a challenging hike. But I had a lovely time watching students at the flight park, catching up on email, and chatting to Stephi when she took her breaks from her work (giving the school gliders their annual technical check).

However, this pleasant day of rest and relaxation was badly marred by a message from my NZ instructor. Unfortunately the NZHGPA (our national association) uses a definition of “open distance” that’s unique to the organisation, which is that the distance is calculated across two turnpoints – no other organisation in the world that I know of calculates open distance this way. Meaning that I had only flown 55km according to the association, and my celebration had been premature. To say this was a blow doesn’t really cover it – I was devastated. The kicker was that I would have had the 60km, only when I hit the 65km mark I decided to turn back for my descent rather than continue forward to descend, just so I had 5km less to hitchhike. No-one had told me – no instructor I’d ever spoken to – that the definition of open distance according to the NZHGPA was different than that according to the international standard. I’d looked on the website for their definition weeks previously in an attempt to avoid this exact situation, but there was nothing available, so I’d assumed they used the international standard definition. The document my instructor later sent me, showing the NZHGPA definition, is not available to the public. I spent a lot of time ranting about this to René, who was just as incensed as I was, with the result that we really just spent several days ranting the same points back and forth at each other. But regardless! Rant over. I’ll move on.

By the end of the day I was suitably physically refreshed (albeit very angry about the bad news) and ready for another attempt at my 60km flight the next morning. René landed a few kilometres away and I went to pick him up; when we got back we discovered some other campers close to us, and what a surprise to find that not only were they paragliders, but René had taught one of them how to fly! They were two very nice Czech men named Jiří and Petr, and the four of us spent a pleasant evening chatting before an early night, ready for a big next day.

Tuesday 4 June: XC 29Km

On Tuesday morning we were up bright and early, ready to hike up Bischling. I drank a lot of water when I woke up and then resolved to use the bathroom immediately before launch and not drink until after the flight – this is René’s strategy to avoid in-flight bladder issues. Jiří and Petr hiked with us – the four of us took a different route from the one René and I took on Sunday, which was much steeper but also involved much less getting lost and bushwhacking, with the result that we were on launch by 10am (just 90 minutes of hiking). As it wasn’t yet peak season the gondola was only operating on the weekends, so the four of us had the launch to ourselves. We launched and I took the same line as I had two days previously. I thermalled up quickly and made the jump across the first valley with ease. However, I had a horrible sense of bad things to come when I felt the urge to use the loo during that first jump, just 20 minutes into the flight – apparently my metabolism was still processing the water I’d drunk 4 hours earlier. But I pressed on, hoping that maybe it wouldn’t get so intense that I couldn’t fly; but it wasn’t to be. By the time I’d made jumped across the second valley I was wriggling around in my harness, and I landed just a few minutes later on a steep slope, having flown only 29km. I was so frustrated!

However, I didn’t lose hope yet. I packed my glider and started to hike up, hoping that I could find a launchable spot somewhere close above me, thermal up, and have another shot at it. But two hours later, having fallen in mud, fallen in stinging nettles, being dehydrated beyond belief and still too low to launch and thermal, I was forced to concede defeat. I begged some water from an elderly Austrian couple living in a cottage on the hillside, and then launched and flew to the bottom of the valley, landing next to the main road. That landing was the highlight of the day – it was in a field full of yellow, pink and white wild flowers, and sloping gently downwards, with the result that I skimmed just centimetres above the flowers for probably 30 metres before I touched down. I felt like a fairy! It’s wasn’t too difficult to get a hitchhike to Bischofshofen, about 15km from Werfenweng, and then René came to fetch me in the van as I was too dehydrated and exhausted to walk to the train station – what a gem!

That evening we hung out with Jiří and Petr, drank wine and discussed our flights. René had flown around 140km (having flown his personal best of 163km open distance the day before) and Petr had almost managed 200km open distance that day. I just listened and tried not to be bitter!

Wednesday 5 June: Salzburg

The next day was looking flyable but René and I had some chores to do in Salzburg. The most important of these was meeting with a possible future employer, Wolfie. He runs a tandem company operating at Mount Gaisberg, on the outskirts of Salzburg – the gliders are easily visible from the central city, meaning that business is good! He was a very nice man, showing us the landing field and explaining how the business works to René as we took the bus to the launch.

Side note, this is the only site I’ve ever come across with a public bus going to the launch! In NZ you can usually drive to launch, but then you have the logistical issue of landing at the bottom with your car still at the top. In Europe there are rarely public roads to the launches – instead gondolas and chairlifts are omnipresent, and always charging exorbitant amounts for a single ride. Not Gaisberg! €2.60 for one ride in the bus, or for €5.20 you can get a day pass, and ride it as many as 7 or 8 times. Much better than Bischling, that’s for sure! At the peak is a restaurant, parking lot, and not one, not two, but three launches, facing north, east, and west respectively. The only wind direction you can’t launch in at Gaisberg is a southerly, which is fine as the Alps are like a wall to the south so it’s not a common wind direction. Airspace is fairly restricted on account of Salzburg Airport, except to the southeast, where you can fly all the way to the Alps. So in short, this is an exceptional site. Extremely easy access, launchable almost all the time, close to a major centre, but still with cross-country potential. As you may be able to tell, I’m in love!

Wolfie wanted to see René fly his solo rather than his tandem, so we each went for a flight. It was a swelteringly hot day, but the air was lovely and thermic and not too turbulent – perfect for a laidback flight! We were flying in singlets, shorts and bare feet, and it was a wonderful way to cool down. You know how on hot days all you want to do is jump into some nice cool water? Well paragliding pilots don’t get that urge – we want to jump into some nice cool air instead. I even took my DSLR camera – it fits in the flight deck pocket of my new harness – and took some great pictures!

When we landed, Wolfie offered René a job for next season, which René accepted. Wolfie would have offered it for this season but unfortunately the Austrian paragliding association dictates that a pilot has to have their Austrian tandem license for a year before they can work as a tandem pilot. But still, this was very exciting news! A lovely team of people at a lovely site, and able to offer a good number of flights per month. Afterwards we did our few chores in Salzburg and then drove back to Werfenweng to celebrate a very successful day.

The next day wasn’t flyable so we did some chores and planned our next move. I’d been worrying about money for quite some time – 2 months of travelling with no income does terrible things to one’s savings. So we decided to head to Germany, to stay with a friend of René’s who runs a mountain hut there. We figured that could be our base for a few days while we looked for farm work, or perhaps I could distribute CVs in the nearby towns in the hope of finding a dishwashing or housekeeping job – I’m in Europe with a German working holiday visa, so if I want to work it’s Germany or nothing, and as I speak no German whatsoever my employment options are pretty limited. At least we could stay at the hut for a while and work for our food and board, meaning my finances would at least stop going down for a little while even if they weren’t yet going up. So the day after we said a fond goodbye to Sep, Steffi and all the other lovely people we’d met, and left the Austrian Alps, bound for the German ones instead.

That’s it for this post! I have two more still to write but I’m in a position now where I should be able to write much more than I’ve been able to write the last few weeks – I won’t tell you why that is or where I am, I don’t want to spoil the story! Coming very soon: all of our adventures at Staufner Haus, Germany. Stay tuned 🙂